Unraveling Secrets
by enigma013
Summary: Alessa Cappello grew up in a wealthy, prestigious family, always feeling out of place and misunderstood.  Soon, though, she makes a new acquaintance in a strange place, and after that, all of her family's secret begin to unravel.  EzioxOC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.**

**Unwinding Secrets: Alessa Cappello grew up in a wealthy, prestigious family, always feeling out of place and misunderstood. Soon, though, she makes a new acquaintance in a strange place, and after that, all of her family's secret begin to unravel. **

**A/N: This is something I just started to write. I have a very good idea where it's going and such, but I'm not certain that there's an audience out there that wants to read on or not. Give me a review and tell me what you thought and if you want the next chapter!**

**One**

Alessa Cappello despised dresses. She despised the time of day in the morning when her maid, Illiana, came in to help her find a dress to wear. It wasn't truly the dresses themselves she despised—she found them to be quite beautiful, even exquisitely so—but it was the stark distinction they made between men and women.

Men, who could wear anything from homespun tunics to business suits to vests and shirts and pants, diverse to women in the way they had expectations to go out of the home, to make something of themselves in some sort of manner, whether it be banking, selling merchandise, taking up the study of healing and so many other things, whereas women were expected to do quite the opposite. Women were supposed to find good husbands, to marry and have children. To learn to sew and cook and clean and tend to the children. They weren't supposed to go out of the home for anything _purposeful_. The only purpose they had to leave was to go to the market, or to visit a family. Alessa didn't feel imprisoned at home—just caught in a place where she didn't want to be. And she knew, with her age, that she wasn't making it very easy on her parents.

Alessa was twenty-two years old, and unmarried. Truly an anomaly, given her beauty, her family's well known prestige, and really her intelligence. But it wasn't that she was unwanted. She was in fact wanted, very much. Man after man had courted her since she was twelve, and man after man she had turned down till this day, much to her parents' disappointment, and sometimes, she thought, even her brothers'. But she knew what they wanted her for—to display her on their arm as a trophy, a piece of décor they could show off to family and friends. They didn't understand her—the way she worked on the _inside_—or did they ever care to.

She wasn't like the other women. Physically speaking, she was in most ways. She was beautiful like her friends were, and friends of friends were. But she wasn't quite as robust or short as they were; she was more lean and tall, a trait detested every so often by a suitor who hadn't quite been blessed with her height. She was taller than most women, and yet shorter than most men. The way her mind worked was how she was most unlike other women. She was very educated, having the best tutors teaching her since she was a little girl. She no longer had need of tutors—she'd learned much, and when she yearned to learn more, she would read. She kept up with the latest scientific or medical theories; she liked to know what was going on out there in the world. She liked to have knowledge that emulated her beauty, so that others would see her as _intelligent_ instead of _beautiful_. So that she may be seen as equivalent to a man.

Fondly, she remembered the days when her parents had permitted her to wear some of her brothers' clothes. Ettore and Giacobbe had never minded, especially not when they were all out playing. She'd been accepted as one of the boys back then, treated as their equal, even picking up some of the traits the boys had—clenching her fists when she was angry, speaking her mind freely, not quite as fearful of the world as most women were. Ettore and Giacobbe had taught her many things—how to climb, how to be strong, how to get up off the ground when she'd fall and hurt herself. And most importantly, how to be herself. But now Ettore and Giacobbe were gone, off on an apprenticeship of carpentry—making boats, she knew—visiting her only on occasion. The occasions didn't come quite often enough to sate her need of feeling like she had a purpose.

She stood in her room, facing the mirror that was tucked into the corner. Light from the window behind her shone brightly on it, outlining her in gold, like an angel. She studied herself—the red dress she wore was elegant, with a gold belt tied around her waist and the arms of it cuffed in gold as well. Her mother always made sure all of her dresses had sleeves reaching to her wrist—to hide the scar they both had, even if Alessa's was higher up on her forearm and not on her wrist. The hem of the dress had a large v-dip in it, exposing her small curves in just the right way to attract a man. It was what her mother wanted, but it always made her feel too exposed to show so much of her skin. Had she been wearing Ettore's childhood leather pants and light tunic, she would have felt much better. Her long dark hair had been coiled at the back of her head with a net of gold wire covering it. Her lips, full and glossy, were turned into a frown. Bright blue eyes stared back at her, broken as if the mirror itself was shattered. She hoped her gloomy feeling would quell soon, before she had to present herself to her mother.

Illiana had left several minutes ago, and Alessa was still pouting. But she smiled at herself in the mirror, trying to break out of the mood. The thought that she had no purpose stuck in the back of her mind, as it seemed to everyday, and made her smile diminish.

Alessa sighed lightly, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. She knew one day she would have to relinquish her daydreams of a more fulfilling life, something exciting and new, and focus on the reality in front of her, the duties she would surely be given as soon as she found a man suitable enough for her to marry. If she would ever find one. Briefly, she wondered if her parents would just promise her to a man, forcing her into marriage. The mere thought sent shudders of fear down her spine. She couldn't imagine being forced into a marriage with a complete stranger, having to live with them and love them. It wouldn't be right.

Her mother had always said she daydreamed too much. She played with the boys too much. She didn't spend enough time trying to find a fitting, wealthy husband. But she didn't want a 'fitting' or 'wealthy' husband. She wanted love—a _loving_ husband. Love had a purpose. It gave someone the _want_ to get up in the morning and face the day, rather than the need. It meant happiness and belonging. If she couldn't _be_ purposeful, she at least wanted the purpose of love. But it seemed love would never find her. At least, he hadn't courted her _yet._

"Alessa!" she heard her mother, Celia, call out from downstairs, "Alessa, are you ready yet? Hurry along!"

Alessa glanced back at the dress that said: _I am woman, I am wealthy, and I am unmarried. _Then without hesitating she exited her room and made her way down the stairs and into the dining area, where her mother was waiting for her.

Celia was beautiful. She had the same dark hair and bright blue eyes that Alessa had, but the angles to Celia's face were much sharper than those of Alessa's. However, her glossy lips were pulled into a scowl, and her bright eyes were narrowed at Alessa. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Illiana stood behind her mother, giving Alessa a warning look.

"Mother—"

"Alessa, I told you to be down here and ready to leave by noon!" Celia uncrossed her arms and planted her hands on her hips. "I would like to make it to the market and back to start dinner early—you know your father is having very important investors over tonight!"

Alessa looked at the ground. "Yes, Mother, I know. I apologize for being so late. But it is now just noon, and I am ready."

Celia nodded briskly. Alessa noticed that her mother was wearing a grand beige dress, one with sleeves also covering her wrists, as usual. "Good. Then let us be on our way." She pushed through the door of the house and walked out onto the street, followed by Illiana and Alessa. Illiana gave Alessa an apologetic look—something she always did when she understood how Alessa was feeling when even her own mother didn't. Alessa offered her devoted maid a small smile, saying without words that it was all right.

The streets outside the Cappello villa were filled with others who wore clothes just as fancy as theirs, fancier, or humbler. It was those who were more humble that Celia always stayed blatantly away from, giving them wide berths en route to their destination. Alessa always felt ashamed of her mother when she did this, but she could never speak up and say so. She wasn't exactly sure how that would end, but she knew it wouldn't go well. Ettore had once voiced how he felt that those with more humility showed better character—yet another thing Alessa idolized her brother for—and her mother had refused to speak to Ettore for a week.

But they lived in the richer part of _Roma_, the Centro District. Although all of _Roma_ was in disrepair, the Centro District was in far better shape than the other three Districts. From her window in her room, Alessa could see the towering edifice of the _Castello_. It was a dreadful sight, to her. The rounded stone of the building with the fortress around it emanated the preponderance the Borgia had over _Roma._ The large abundance of guards always reminded her of just how _much_ power the family had, just how careful they were, and deceiving and sly.

She knew better than most people did in _Roma_, because of her father. It sickened her to know that the Borgia had managed to pinch their claws into her father, to twist him from being a steadfast and loyal man to a spy on his neighbors and friends. Of course, she wasn't meant to know. She'd overheard her mother disputing it when her father weeks ago, and lived in fear ever since. Her family didn't need the extra money the Borgia paid them—not at all. But she knew it was just another thing that could be used against them, should her father choose to deny helping them. With as much fear it filled her with, it also put her at ease to know they had ties to the Borgia. The thought, however ashamed she was to think it, was logical. Spies wouldn't be spied on, themselves.

The glowing sun cast warmth over Alessa, soaking into her clothes radiantly. She loved being outside, even if they were only heading to the market. Just being away from home felt like some kind of burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

Every so often they'd pass under an overhead structure, sending them into shadows. A few minutes later, the tall buildings that were unique to the Centro District began to block out the sun, casting longer lasting shadows on the ground. It raised bumps on Alessa's covered arms, and she shivered. She was thankful she didn't see anyone they knew on the way—whether they be old suitors who've long since given up or had been sent away, humbler investors of her fathers, or friends of her mothers. Having to greet and make polite small talk would just slow them down, and Alessa was eager to get back into the sun, to be surrounded by people she didn't know.

Thicker crowds of people were a telltale sign that they were nearing the market, and right on time. The sun was just beginning its fall from high noon, the sky was cloudless and a beautiful blue. Alessa hoped her mother wouldn't take too long to shop. She wanted to get home, finish her chores, and go back out to enjoy the day on her own. However she knew from previous experience that it was likely they'd be there until the sun was just to the horizon. Her mother wanted to cook a wonderful meal to impress the investors, and Alessa didn't really think badly of her for it. They _were_ important investors—the investors were what kept her father in a job. He owned a number of shops throughout the District, and in some of the others as well, so not only sales determined how well he did profit-wise.

"Alessa," Celia spoke, bringing Alessa out of her reverie, "I asked what you would think if I made lamb to serve tonight?"

Alessa focused her eyes on the merchant's stand in front of her, displaying a large variety of meats and fish. She wasn't certain how long they had been standing there for. "I think it sounds wonderful. The investors would surely love it."

Celia smiled brightly at Alessa, and then turned the smile on the merchant. As it did to anyone who was graced with her mother's smile, the man just stared a moment before realizing that Celia had ordered. After her mother paid the merchant a few _fiorini_, they moved on to the next stand.

"You seem more distracted than usual," Illiana commented quietly to Alessa as she put the lamb meat in the basket she always brought when they shopped. Illiana's accent was much more pronounced than Celia's or Alessa's. Both Alessa and her mother had very thin accents compared to most of their friends and family, and Alessa assumed it was because her mother had been the one to teach her to speak. But it was always startling to her to hear how different they sounded compared to Illiana or her father, Egidio.

"I am just lost inside my head, as mother would say," Alessa told Illiana with a small smile, "It's nothing to worry over."

Illiana watched Alessa another moment, and then nodded. She moved to stand next to Celia, helping her choose between different types of soup they could make.

Alessa toyed idly with her dress, wishing she were wearing anything but. People would stop and stare at her, men would smile at her, and the like. She'd thought being in a market full of people she didn't know would be better, not worse. But she paid them no mind. The market was a large square, complete with a tricking fountain in the center. She stared at the water a moment, watching as it spouted lithely from four different angles. But it continued on forever in that way, never changing paths, nor height or amount. Just thin rivulets of water that spouted from the same stream, repeating the path through the intricate system within the fountain. Would be that way? Would she remain forever intricate on the inside, and yet the same and repeating in her ways on the outside, never finding a purpose? These days, it seemed that way.

She looked around the square for a distraction. Her chest tightened as she held in a groan. There, coming this way from a thoroughfare on the other side of the market, was Fulvio, her most recent and perverted suitor. He smiled widely at Alessa when he saw that he'd caught her eye and waved eagerly. She quelled the urge to not acknowledge him, and managed to offer the smallest of smiles in return.

"Alessa!" Fulvio greeted her enthusiastically, placing a kiss on each cheek. Alessa tried not to shiver in disgust. She knew her mother was watching with hope. "You look just lovely. It has been but days since I have last seen you, and still it is too long. And _Madonna_! You, too, look wonderful!" Fulvio greeted Celia as well. "Is that lamb your maid is carrying? Tell me, what great occasion calls for such a food?"

Alessa cringed when he said 'your maid'. Fulvio was the type to treat maids like servants, like they weren't apart of the family. Illiana had helped raise Alessa—she would never treat Illiana that way.

"_Illiana,"_ Alessa spoke before her mother could, "Is indeed carrying lamb." She gave Fulvio a reproachful look, with which he returned a bemused one. She looked away, frowning, and Illiana caught her eye. Her look said that she was grateful for Alessa speaking up on her behalf, but it was unnecessary.

"Yes," Celia spoke up quickly, blushing at her daughter's brashness, "We are having some investors over for dinner tonight."

"Ah," Fulvio said, as if it were all so very clear to him now, "That's wonderful!"

Celia smiled broadly, looking between Alessa and Fulvio. "Actually," she said, "Perhaps you would like to join us? We have room at the table for another seat, and I'm sure Alessa would like your company. Isn't that so, Alessa?"

Alessa opened her mouth to speak, but Celia purposefully cut her off, giving Fulvio a bright smile. "She'd love it if you came."

"I would be honored, _signorina," _Fulvio beamed at Alessa, who was frowning.

"Delightful!" Celia clasped her hands together happily. "Then it's set. Come by at dinnertime and . . ."

Alessa, her hands clenched together, walked away to another stand, trying to stay calm. Fulvio was a perverted bastard that always let his hands wander when he was around. What would Mother think of him if she knew _that_? Her knuckles were white, she realized. She remembered what Ettore used to do to stay calm when Father would try and convince him to stay in the family business. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out. Although the stench of people filled her nostrils, she was desensitized to it. She just breathed, and then opened her eyes, feeling a little better. It was one evening, she told herself. One evening, and then she could be free and on her own.

She looked down at the merchant stand in front of her as a distraction. This one was selling masks for Carnival. She was admiring a gold and plum colored mask when she heard a woman shriek.

Turning to see what the commotion was, she saw that several other people on the other side of the market were dashing to get out of the way of something. Her eyebrows scrunched together. Had a horse bucked or gotten loose from where it was tethered? It wouldn't be the first time, she knew.

A moment later, she saw the real disturbance. There was a man running, faster than she'd ever seen anyone run before. He wore a white robe with armor over it and a hood covering his head, concealing his face. On his back, there was a cape and a crossbow—a weapon that could easily be bought at one of the stores her father owned. The hilt of a sword gleamed at his side, catching the sunlight. Guards were chasing him, just a few paces behind him. She watched in awe as he ran faster, shoving through the crowds of people near the center of the square to get through. She didn't even have the good sense not to be bothered by it. Then she saw with a pang of panic that there were other guards coming straight at him, blocking him off. He was cornered.

Why would he be running from guards in the first place? Had he stolen something? As she listened, she heard the guards shouting vulgar comments at the man, and something about a Borgia captain. She knew very little about Borgia captains—only that there were several stationed in a District, and that they were there to keep the Borgia's power and influence over the area tightly controlled.

The man stopped on the spot, glancing quickly around. Alessa assumed he was searching for an escape, but she gasped when she saw him draw out his sword, brandishing it in the air as he crouched down into a fighting stance. He shouted something back at the guards, but she couldn't hear it. More people moved to dart out of the market, shoving her aside as they did. She barely noticed. Her eyes were glued onto the scene in front of her.

Alessa couldn't possibly begin to understand what would make this man rebel against the guards, or do whatever he did to the Borgia captain, but she thought him to be absolutely insane if he actually was going to fend off the guards. She'd seen other citizens get into trouble with them over small things, and get _killed_ over it—now everyone avoided the guards because they knew they were corrupted. But this man obviously hadn't done something small to provoke them so much. The guards were pissed off and looked to be out for his blood.

A heavily armored guard with an axe-like weapon made to lunge forward and lash out at the man. Alessa pinched her eyes shut in fear—she didn't want to see him _killed_. Her hands shook at the idea of it. But a moment later, she heard the clashing of metal on metal and opened her eyes. Her mouth dropped open. With a flick of his wrist, the man in robes had deflected the oncoming weapon, forcing it to the side as he reached out and stabbed the guard in the throat with something under his sleeve. The guard cried out in pain, dropping the axe as both hands went to his throat where blood spewed between his fingers. He fell to his knees, dying.

"_Alessa!"_

She flinched when she finally recognized her name being called and felt a hard tug on her arm. Looking to see who had a hold on her, she realized with some surprise that it was her mother. Alessa had never realized how strong she was before; she pulled Alessa away from the scene and into a narrow thoroughfare that would lead them home. But Alessa spared one last glance back at the man in the white robes, still awed by the fluidness of his movements, the _purpose_ within them. Celia tugged on her arm painfully once more.

"We must leave _now!"_ Celia shouted, and with Illiana by their side once more, they gathered up their skirts and made to run back to the villa. A crowd of people ran alongside them, all headed in different directions. Alessa noted that Fulvio hadn't seemed to care enough for her to stick around. She wondered, briefly, if he would have the gall to show up later on.

The screaming of another guard reached her ears even as they were almost home. She didn't feel any fear from it. She didn't feel bothered by it. And she wasn't quite sure why.

**Please Review and tell me what you thought and if I should continue to post or not!(-:**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed. **

**A/N: I see that there is an audience reading, (and I **_**really **_**appreciate the reviews) so I have decided to post this chapter. My chapters vary in length, and sadly this is a shorter one. But if I continue to get some feedback, positive or negative, I can promise there will be much more to come.**

**Two**

Celia had managed to still make a fantastic dinner, despite her shopping being interrupted earlier that day. She'd gone through things they already had in the house and used them expertly; making anything that seemed just a tad bit old taste like new.

Alessa noted, with some curiosity, that neither her mother nor Illiana mentioned anything about the man in the white robes. It was strange for her mother not to bring something up, especially something like that. She thoroughly enjoyed conversation, no matter the topic. Alessa wondered if she, too, was expected to keep quiet about it, and why.

Dinner had been eaten in the villa, in the dining room. It'd been filled with laughter and animated small talk, and neither the former nor the latter had been too painful for Alessa to sit through. She saw, with some joy, that her parents were having a very nice time. They were now outside in the private courtyard, drinking with the investors, although the jokes were growing more and more inappropriate. Alessa wondered if they might have had a little _too_ much to drink.

Although she usually never even had a sip of grappa or anything of the like, she felt the necessity of it in the moment. She sat upon a small stone bench, intricately carved with angels on the legs of it. It faced a small fountain her mother had had placed in the corner years ago, with a similar theme. An angel held its hands out, and water poured from them into a small stone tub, making a soothing plashing sound. During midday, birds could usually be found perched on the edges, drinking from it. Now that night was falling, there was just the lone fountain, the stone angel with eyes that looked terribly lonely. Beside Alessa sat Fulvio, gall and all. He'd shown up quite cockily just at the start of dinner, uttering some excuse of having to get home and tend to his sick mother, but that she was fine now.

Alessa felt grateful for her easily distracted mind. If she'd been expected to keep up a conversation with Fulvio, she pretended not to know. Her head kept returning to the man in the white robes—the way he'd wielding his sword with such purpose, in his strong stance. She'd never seen someone with so much drive.

"You look beautiful, Alessa," Fulvio murmured to her as he reached out to touch her hand. She kept her eyes on the scene in front of her. There was ivy growing around the angel fountain, creeping up the sides of it. Her mother had Illiana trim it back every so often so that it'd stay neat. Colorfully potted flowers were placed meticulously about on the stone that outlined the courtyard. The square cut of grass in the middle was a neat summer green.

Alessa's eyes could no longer find more to distract herself with. Reality broke into her head, unwelcome. His hand was warm on hers. She'd almost flinched away from his touch, but hadn't out of practice. If it pleased her mother to see some interaction between her and a man, she would allow this much to happen. She was tired of being such a disappointment all the time.

Alessa turned and regarded Fulvio, perhaps truly looking at his features for the first time. He was handsome—she'd admitted that to herself the first time she met him. He had high cheekbones and a strong jaw line, light green eyes with fair skin and slightly curled black hair, like hers but hers was straight. Her mother had even commented on what a 'perfect couple' they would have made, with their looks. He'd even been very charming when she'd first met him, and although she always saw through the charm, she'd actually wondered: was _he_ her purpose? Would he be the one she'd finally decide to settle down with and marry? She'd even given a little thought at what their children would look like. But she saw the insides of people better than she did the outside. And his insides weren't nearly as handsome.

"Thank you," she said automatically. She was so used to suitors giving out compliment after compliment, with such eloquence of the tongue. Although Fulvio's compliments were much simpler than some men before—those who had been poets and writers—she still wasn't very fond of them. It was always '_You look beautiful,'_ or '_Your eyes are the most exquisite blue,'_ or some other petty thing that had to do with _looks_. She wanted to hear something about who she _was_ as a person, not what she looked like. Even if someone pointed out a flaw or two, she wouldn't have minded in the least. It seemed that most people she came to know were all about seeing the outside of things, and were too uncaring to go further, to see deeper than that. She wondered what men would think of her if her hair and eyes were the opposite.

Fulvio had been studying Alessa, a frown on his face. It never seemed that he could keep her attention for very long. "Are you not having a good time?" He reached out to cup her cheek, an intimate look in his eyes.

Alessa brushed his hand away with the back of her own and bit her lip. But instead of taking that as a rejection, Fulvio bravely put a hand on her thigh, a little too high up for Alessa's comfort. She knew how hands-on he could get, and feared for the day when she wouldn't be able to stop him. She turned to him. "Fulvio—"

Fulvio removed his hand from her thigh, and for a moment, relief flooded through her chest. But then she froze in shock and horror, her mouth gaping open before she immediately clamped it shut. Fulvio took her face in both hands and pulled her towards him roughly. Everything happened in slow motion. She felt his hot breath on her face and neck before she saw his encroaching lips. Noting that they were wet, from him licking them, she assumed, she shuddered involuntarily. His eyes were closed, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. But the moment was _anything_ but romantic. He mushed his lips onto her own, and she wanted to gag at the moistness of his. Her eyes were wide open, but she couldn't break free from his tight grasp. Even worse, she was facing away from her parents, so should they look over, they'd merely see Fulvio kissing her and her appearing to kiss him back. Anger rose up in Alessa's chest. Fulvio continued kissing her, he thought passionately, and began intertwining his fingers in her thick hair. It caused her pain, because of the tightly wound coil Illiana had helped her style it in earlier didn't really leave any room for his sausage-like fingers. Alessa put her hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but he took it as a sign of eagerness and wanting. His tongue slipped out and glided over her bottom lip, and she saw her only escape. She bit him, making him flinch and release her within a second.

As she finally pulled away from him, panting for air, she saw with disgust that even as he held a hand gingerly to his mouth, he was looking at her hungrily and smiling cockily. She wiped her own mouth with the back of her hand, wishing to wash it out immediately.

"Wanted it a little more rough, did you?" Fulvio asked, his voice husky, "I'm sure if we can escape from your parents' sight—"

"_No_," she said firmly, glaring at him. It was all she could bring herself to say, she was so appalled.

Fulvio's eyebrows scrunched together, but before he could say anything Egidio and Celia excused themselves from the investors and made their way over to them.

"I see you two are enjoying yourselves!" Celia said exuberantly, a broad smile on her face. She looked between the two as if they were already in love. But Egidio, Alessa's father, knew better. He was the more understanding parent.

"Perhaps you should call it a night, Alessa," Egidio suggested, much to her relief.

Celia cast a reproachful look at her husband. "I think Alessa is just fine. _Aren't _you dear?"

Any hope of getting out of spending more time with Fulvio fell away from Alessa like loose clay tiles falling from the roofs of houses and shattering on the cobblestone streets below. She frowned. "Yes, Mother," she said, against everything she _wanted_ to say. It wasn't very often that she held her tongue. "I'm fine for a while longer, Father."

Egidio gave her a look that said he knew otherwise, but Celia grinned again. "Well," she said, "We must get back to the investors. But you two should feel free to leave at anytime! I know how often Egidio and I would take walks under the lamps of the city." Celia looked at Egidio reminiscently.

Alessa refrained from scowling and flicked her gaze back to a giddy Fulvio. This was just what he wanted. He stood from the bench and held out his hand expectantly. "Shall we, then?"

Alessa looked from his hand to her mother, and then took it. It was clear she had no choice in the matter. His hand was clammy and slippery, and she immediately wanted to yank her hand back but she ground her teeth together and let him pull her to her feet. He gave her parents a charming smile before he led her out of the back entrance of the courtyard, onto a dimly lit thoroughfare. There were still many people out and about, but not as much as there was during the day.

Fulvio kept his hand intertwined with Alessa's making small talk about how it was so great that the dinner went well, and he knew how big of a deal her father was in _Roma_, owning many of the shops, and how he looked forward to getting to know her parents better. She would nod and make sounds of approval so that he'd know she was listening, when really all she could think about was getting away from him, getting away from _everything_ and just being free. She just wanted to be able to go out by herself and enjoy time alone; time to think, maybe to enjoy the stars like she used to when she was younger and her brothers would go out on the roof of the villa with her. She missed her brothers dearly, but knew it would be selfish of her to write to them, to ask them to come back. She wouldn't do that to them. But the next time she saw them, she'd appreciate the time she'd get to spend with them. She'd tell them of Fulvio and his touchy ways, and maybe they would do something about it. Maybe they would make Fulvio a more decent man.

They rounded onto a street that would lead her home. She could see the villa already—it was two floors and quite large for the District they lived in, even if it was one of the better Districts. She could see the high cast of the roof, the clay tiles covering it. Her bedroom window faced the back, where there was a roof below it, covering another entrance to the house from the courtyard. Beside her, Fulvio was speaking of the Borgia now, and how the amount of guards has increased since they took control of _Roma_. It was a subject Alessa didn't care to hear about, so she completely tuned him out. But she regretted it immediately. One moment, they were nearing the villa, and the next, he was moving to stand in front of her, grabbing her face to kiss her again.

This time, she pushed him away with as much force as she could. "_No!"_ she shouted, causing several people heading home or to a local tavern to glance at them. "Fulvio do _not._"

Fulvio looked at Alessa, hurt. "Was it something I said, _amore mio_? Have I offended you?"

Alessa's stomach tightened. She hated this part. She hated what she had to say to finally get a man to understand. "No, Fulvio, it was not something you said. And I am _not_ your love."

Fulvio's brows pulled together. "My sweet, then. I apologize for calling you my love—let me call you my sweet, then."

Alessa shook her head and sighed. But then she thought of something. She looked up at Fulvio, searching his eyes. "Tell me something."

Catching the urgency of the situation in her voice, Fulvio grabbed her hands, holding them tightly within his own damp ones. "Anything. Anything at all."

"What is it you like about me, Fulvio?"

The question hung in the air for a few moments. The only thing keeping a complete silence from passing over them was the chirping crickets in the gardens behind the tall wall beside them. Fulvio smiled at her gently for the first time, and she held her breath, biting her lip. He reached out to stroke her hair, and she let him, feeling the tenderness of it. Maybe he would finally understand. Maybe he would finally _see_ her truly, _see_ the way she was inside, not outside. She smiled at him, waiting eagerly.

"Well," he began, his voice soft, "I like that you're beautiful—"

Alessa's lips fell into a frown and she stepped away from him. "No more," she waved a hand in the air, cutting him off from going any further. Angry and upset tears stung her eyes, but she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"Alessa, my sweet, let me finish—"

"No," she said firmly, "No more."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Alessa exhaled deeply. "Fulvio, I am tired."

"You truly do not look it," he said, and then smiled like it was the best compliment she'd ever heard.

She briefly wondered if any woman had ever turned down his advances, or if there was something not right in the way his head worked. But given his looks and his family's wealth, she doubted any woman would ever turn him down. Except for her, of course. "I think I am going to get some rest."

His shoulders slumped with disappointment. "Truly? I was hoping you might… be more open to other things, tonight."

"No, Fulvio. I'm going to rest," she stepped around him, heading toward the villa. He caught her arm gently and she shut her eyes momentarily, holding in a sigh.

"May I come by and see you tomorrow, Alessa?"

Alessa looked back at him steadily, removing his hand from her arm with two fingers, as if it were some slimy tentacle that'd risen out of the well by the tavern and clung to her. "I think I'll be resting tomorrow, too." She looked away from him and continued walking back to the villa. She knew what she'd see if she glanced back at him. She'd seen it so many times before. But he wasn't her purpose. He wasn't her anything. She'd find him someday, though. She hoped for it.

**Please take a moment and review! It's much appreciated! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.**

**Three**

Dawn was drawing near. The cobalt-hue of the sky told Alessa so, as well as the songbirds all around, flitting from the occasional trees that were planted in the lower part of Centro District. It would be another hour or so, but dawn was still very close.

Alessa had freed her hair from its coil earlier, when she'd climbed out her bedroom window, when a sense of wanderlust had taken over her. It now fell freely down her back, glistening in the moonlight. Every so often the wind would pick up and pull it off to the side. She didn't mind one bit. It felt liberating.

She stood atop a building facing the poorer part of _Roma_. The building itself was in no great shape—wood was exposed where the structure had fallen apart and jutted up in the corners. It'd fallen away at the sides of the building, leaving an open space for her to stand. It was quiet, except for the occasional howl of a wolf out in the countryside and the maundering of drunks wandering the streets aimlessly. Her toes breached the edge of the roof, but she wasn't afraid. She knew she wouldn't fall. Earlier, she'd shucked off her dress in exchange for the old childhood clothes Ettore once wore. Her mother had tried to get rid of them, but before she had, Alessa had stashed them away in the trunk at the end of her bed. She wore a small light tunic shirt that hugged her small frame, the fabric thick and yet breathable enough for the wind to pass through it, making her feel light and airy. She also wore leather pants and boots. Although she was lean and small boned, she was taller than most women by several inches, and yet still shorter than most men. There had been the occasional man who'd detested her for her height. But right now, those things didn't matter. What mattered was that she escaped the routine living of the villa and was now somewhere new, somewhere different and endearing. She could only imagine what her mother would say about the part of the District she was in—she had only been forbidden to come here since she could walk.

As much as she missed her brothers, she'd decided to go out and do as they would had they actually been here. So she'd climbed to the roofs of houses, she wandered streets she hadn't been on before, she'd even spoken to an elderly man who had also been out enjoying the night. These were things she hadn't done before, not on her own, and she felt all the livelier for it.

She tilted her head up to look at the stars, the way she used to when she was little. Giacobbe would always point out the brightest ones. The stars always awed her—they were so far away, and yet shined so brightly. Her dreams of having some sort of purpose were like that, only they didn't shine nearly as bright. They were more dimmed and dying, if anything.

She closed her eyes and breathed in and out. For the first time, it seemed that she was breathing a little fresher air—it had more nature in it. She relished the feeling of being someone different—she could imagine herself just living up here, or maybe out in the country, or _anywhere_, whenever she felt like it. The pants and shirt she wore made her feel completely diverse to her usual silk dress. They even made her smile. She'd never smiled because of fabrics before, but she supposed she was smiling because of the memories they brought back to her. But she knew this couldn't last forever. She couldn't live where she wanted, when she wanted. She couldn't even let her parents see her in these clothes. She was expected to be a woman. To wear dresses. To marry and have children.

She imagined Ettore and Giacobbe being there with her. They could always make her laugh with their silly jokes about the latest man trying to get her hand in marriage, or about anything at all. They knew how to make her feel better about the things she was expected to do. Ettore was wise beyond his years, always giving out advice on the occasions he and Giacobbe could come and visit. She wondered what their apprenticeship was like—what it was like to work on boats and docks. They were always so vague on details about their employer—she assumed because Mother and Father wouldn't approve. Father had many enemies, as well as friends, but the market he was in was very competitive. She didn't think her brothers would go and work for someone that was competing with her father for business, but she could never be certain. She never pressed them for more information, either. Whatever they were doing, they obviously loved it. So it was okay that they were gone.

"I do hope that you are not planning on jumping. A fall from a building like this would only put you in more pain, not kill you," a deep, heavily accented voice spoke from behind Alessa. She froze in surprise.

"And how exactly would you know that?" she asked as she turned to face the stranger. It was a man, that much she could tell. He stood in the shadows casted from a hanging piece of the old structure that'd broken down and worn away with time. Something about him seemed familiar though. He walked towards her slowly, purposefully, with a fluid movement. It put her on edge.

He laughed lightly, stepping forward from shadows into a splash of moonlight. Once she saw him, her heart began pounding rapidly. She could feel it in her throat. It was the man from the market—the one with the white robes. He still wore his hood up, but his face was visible this time. He was very handsome—he had strong features, dark brown hair that she could tell from his eyebrows, and light eyes. He wore an amused expression, making the slash of a scar on his lip more pronounced. She guessed his age to be somewhere in his thirties, like Fulvio. Shining silver armor reflected in the moonlight, glinting preciously. She stared at him, and then recovered, clamping her mouth shut as her mind began to function again. She'd been surprised to know that someone else was on the roof, but she was even more surprised it was _him_. Who was he? Was he dangerous? Of _course_ he was! He killed all those guards yesterday! But would he hurt _her?_

"I know because I have fallen many times from a roof like this one, and I can tell you that it doesn't make for a pleasant landing. Should you jump, I suggest falling into a haystack. It is much less painful." As he approached her, his steps were careful and calculated. Although he was joking with the woman, he really wasn't certain if she was going to jump or not.

Alessa studied him a moment, biting her lip. She narrowed her eyes at his advancing closeness and took a step to the left, still on the ledge of the roof, but a step away from him. Her hands were shaky, so she clenched them into fists. "I am not going to jump."

The man nodded, and she could read some sort of small relief in his eyes. He stopped several feet away from her, understanding that she didn't want him to come any closer. "_Bene,"_ he said, "But why stand? Why not sit?"

"Standing has more purpose. Sitting does not." As she shifted her stance, she eyed him warily. He regarded her with a bemused expression, but didn't move. The weapons he carried gleamed bright silver in the moonlight, like his eyes. But she didn't necessarily think that his eyes were silver. A blue, perhaps? Or another light color that reflected light differently?

He raised an eyebrow. "What is the purpose of standing on a rooftop, then?"

Alessa sighed, decidedly crossing her arms and looking away from him, off into the distance. She liked the fact that her heart was racing wildly. She liked the fact that danger stood just three feet away from her. It was new; so much different than her sheltered life at the villa, just going out to the market with her mother or being courted by men who would someday just be business men, if they weren't already.

Her mouth quirked up at the absurdness of the situation. "I was hoping a stranger would come along, think that I was about to jump, and come up here just so I could have some company," she joked.

The man laughed genuinely. "Is that so?"

Her small smile fell as quickly as it came. She shook her head slowly, looking into the night, realizing just how large _Roma_ really was. It seemed to stretch on and on. She'd never even been to this part of the District before. "I'm searching for something," she said quietly.

The man took smaller steps until he was standing beside her, and crossed his arms as well, mimicking her stance. He looked off to where she was looking, seeing the rest of the Borgia towers he still needed to destroy, torches lighting streets, the occasional drunk or two, and the sleepy guards on rooftops.

"Is your husband a drunk?" he asked facetiously, "Because I'm not certain you are searching for him in the right place. I would try closer to the Rosa in Fiore."

Alessa cast a sidelong look at him, seeing a ghost of a smile at his lips. She wondered what was so funny. "I don't have a husband."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Truly?" His eyes flitted over her. "How old are you?"

"Old enough that your surprise is appropriate," she said, frowning. She realized that she must have been a strange sight—a woman standing at the edge of a roof in mans clothes. A blush crept onto her face, and not from the slight wind.

He shrugged. "I am not married either."

Alessa stared at him again, but said nothing about it. She turned back to the view in front of her. There was a neon blue hue beyond the farthest buildings, just barely outlining them. It grew as more time passed. It was odd, standing in what she would call a comfortable silence with a complete stranger. A completely dangerous stranger who, just the day before, killed a handful of guards. She still didn't get what it was he'd done that caused them to even chase him in the first place.

"I saw you yesterday," Alessa blurted suddenly, without thinking.

The man turned and regarded her with a wary expression, his mouth pulled into a tight line. "And where might you have seen me?" He worried for a moment that he'd been too lazy about not taking down more posters that had a rough sketch of his face on it. After burning the first Borgia tower yesterday, he should have known his face had been seen. Several guards had given up, no longer loyal to the Borgia, but a handful had still chased after him.

"At the market, the one in the middle of this District. There were guards chasing after you." She turned back to him, giving him a quizzical look.

He let his eyes roam the landscape. "Ah. I apologize that you had to witness that." He was certain he'd traumatized more than one person by killing guards in public, and he felt guilty to make more citizens afraid rather than empowered.

She stared at him now, not caring if he noticed or not. She took in the way he stood with a purpose, with a confidence that wasn't smug, but good and strong. And there was a twinge to it, an arcane twinge that was enticing all the same. "Don't apologize."

He met her eyes, his brows pulled together. He wasn't sure what to think. But the more he looked at her, the more she reminded him of someone. The black shiny hair, the way she smiled, the challenging and bold look in her eyes. "Have we met before?"

Alessa tucked her hair behind her ears, a nervous habit she acquired years ago. She knew his question was serious, and not just something a man would say to try and charm her. But even though she liked the danger that this man was, the newness of it, that didn't mean she didn't feel a little anxious. "I really don't think so. Why?"

He stared at her a moment longer, then looked away. "You just remind me of someone. That's all. Although I suppose if we had meant, I would have remembered."

Alessa frowned. She hoped he really _wasn't _the kind of guy who'd try to charm her about her looks. "And why's that?" she asked, and underlying loathing in her tone.

He smiled, despite her tone of voice, and looked her over. "Well, because I have never met a women who felt compelled to wear men's clothing before."

Alessa looked back at him, her eyes wide. "Really?"

He was confused. "Well, yes, it is not every day one sees a woman wearing—"

"No, not that," she cut him off, "It's—never mind. I was just surprised you noticed."

He was still confused. "It's hard to miss. Although it does seem to suit you."

Alessa beamed. "Thank you…" she trailed off, realizing she didn't even know what his name was.

"I am Ezio. Ezio Auditore," he offered, bowing slightly. His right arm reflexively crossed over his chest when he did.

She mimicked him, choosing purposefully not to curtsey. "Alessa Cappello."

Ezio stared at her, his mouth open slightly.

Alessa glanced back to the horizon. The sun was just breaching the rim of it, painting a colorful canvas of yellows and pinks onto the clouds nearest. Her heart skipped a beat in panic. She looked back to Ezio, who had regained his composure. "I'm sorry—I must go. I wasn't supposed to leave. It was nice making your acquaintance, Ezio." She walked back to the west side of the building and found her footholds on the part of a broken window pane. Hopping down to the ground, she began sprinting back in the direction of home.

"You as well," he said in a low voice, even after she left and could no longer hear him. He stared after her until her familiar gleaming black hair disappeared as she rounded onto a street.

O O O

"Alessa," Celia began as they ate their morning meal in the dining room. Sunlight streamed through the windows and off-white curtains, casting a golden glow into the room. "Why do you look so tired, dear? Did you not sleep well last night?"

Alessa frowned. She knew she should have gotten back sooner, to at least get _some_ sleep before she had to see her mother, but talking with Ezio Auditore had been a distraction she needed. She felt refreshed—oddly livelier ever since, even if she was exhausted.

"I'm just a little tired, Mother," she said, "I'm sure I'll sleep better tonight."

Celia nodded. "I do hope so. Is Fulvio coming over today?"

Alessa looked down at the meal in front of her, shaking her head. She'd been through a conversation with her mother like this many times before. She knew how it would go.

Her mother's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Tomorrow?" she asked with some hope.

Alessa shook her head again, feeling ashamed.

"Alessa," Celia hissed, "How long are you going to wait for? _What_ is it that you are waiting for? You aren't getting any younger, dear. Soon, men won't be looking at you as they do now. Why are you so reluctant to settle down and marry?"

Alessa exhaled heavily, meeting her mother's eyes. "I do not want some man who only wants me for my looks, Mother. I want him to love me, the way you and Father love each other. Is that too much to ask?"

Celia's shoulders drooped with guilt. "Dear, I understand. Really, I do. But you can't expect a man to love you if you don't even give him the chance to see you."

Alessa threw her hands up in exasperation. "They _do_ see me! They see _this!"_ She gestured at her face. "But they refuse to see _this,_ Mother!" She put a hand over her heart.

"Oh, dear," Celia said sadly. She put her fork down on the table, setting her hands on her lap. "You are truly beautiful, Alessa. Sometimes it's hard for men to see past that sort of beauty."

Alessa thought back to just that morning, when she'd been talking to Ezio. He hadn't made any comments about the way she looked—other than the fact that men's clothes _suited_ her. In fact, he'd even noticed something about the way she _felt_. He said that if she'd jumped, she have been in _more_ pain. Not just pain, but more if it. Someone had seen past the beauty to the tormented soul underneath. She may never see Ezio ever again, but it was uplifting to know that maybe someone else someday would see her like that.

"Would it be so bad to wait for someone who could, Mother? You and Father didn't marry until you were twenty. I'm twenty-two. I still have time." Alessa, too, set her fork aside. She found she wasn't very hungry anymore. For once, she was glad her father had to leave for work early so that he didn't hear this conversation. It would have made it even harder.

Illiana peeked her head into the room from the kitchen to Alessa's left. Illiana, herself, was beautiful, even in her older age. She had short blonde hair reaching to her shoulders, light brown wise eyes, and a soft, rounded face. Her curves were pronounced even more in the way she held herself. She was like an aunt to Alessa—part of the family.

"If I may, Madonna," Illiana said, "But I waited until I was twenty-four to marry. And do you know something? Gian is the love of my life, as I am his. There is nothing more beautiful than that."

Alessa smiled. "You see, Mother? It's not so bad to wait. And who knows—maybe I will find someone soon."

Celia looked between Illiana and Alessa, a tiny frown on her lips. "I swear, sometimes you are more like Illiana than you are me. Romantics," she spat the word like it was the dirtiest thing she knew.

Illiana laughed heartily. "But _you_ are a romantic, too! Do you not remember the day you married Egidio? Because I remember it _quite_ well."

Celia smiled reminiscently. "I suppose you are right. But," she shot a glance at Illiana, and then ducked her head towards Alessa in pretense of secrecy, "I do hope you are not twenty-four when you find your love."

Illiana laughed good-naturedly again, on her way back into the kitchen.

Alessa and Celia stood, finished with their morning meal. She noticed her mother was wearing a pink dress today, one where the sleeves didn't reach all the way down to cover her wrists. It was unusual for her mother to do that, but she supposed that, being years later, it was easier for her to look at the scar.

"Mother," Alessa began as they walked to the common room, looking down at the matching scar on her forearm. It had the appearance of a crescent moon, but her mother had told her long ago it'd been from a makeshift weapon. "Where exactly were we attacked when I was little?"

Celia tensed and came to a stop. She turned to Alessa, her mouth in a tight line as she reflexively ran a finger over the crescent scar. "It's been years, Alessa. You don't even remember that night. Why do you want to know now?"

Alessa felt obscurely scolded in some way. "I was just curious."

"It was near the Colosseo," Celia replied shortly, "During the night. I shouldn't have been out so late with you." The look in her mother's eyes was too much for Alessa to bear. She shouldn't have asked—it only ever caused her mother pain.

"Mother," Alessa felt guilty now, "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I just wanted to know."

Celia nodded, but pinched her eyes shut and walked away without another word. Alessa was left with the strange feeling that something wasn't quite right about what had happened. Or maybe her mother hadn't really told her everything that'd truly happened that night.

**A/N: So they met briefly. The story will not progress super quick, just so you guys know. I have some plans. (-: Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter with a review. Anything I did poorly? Anything you liked? Anything you want to see sometime in the future? (Although I do have plans, I'm sure any suggestions could help.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed. **

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far! They really do help me.(-:**

**Four**

The first thing Alessa noticed when she woke was that it was still in the midst of night. Beside her bed, through the window she could see the moon and the stars shining brightly, casting a grey glow into her room. The second thing she noticed was what had wakened her. There were people talking in hushed tones, somewhere in the villa. The voices sounded distant, like hearing underwater. Alessa knew firsthand what it was like, after she'd almost drowned at age thirteen when Giacobbe had accidently knocked her off a ledge and into the Tiber River.

She rubbed at her eyes, her brows pulling together. Who would be awake so late into the night? Her mother and father had gone to bed hours ago, and she knew it wasn't Giacobbe and Ettore returning for a visit—they wouldn't come at this hour, and she could hear a distinctly female voice, along with a man's.

Rolling out of bed, she decided to investigate. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep otherwise. Alessa crept to the door of her room, the moonlight guiding her. She pulled it open slowly so that it wouldn't creak, and then slid out of it, her toes just barely padding the floor. She naturally walked in silence, something her mother had always chastised her for. Several times had Alessa walked into a room unnoticed, and then surprised Celia, earning herself a tirade of scolding's for several minutes afterwards.

Now, as she silently walked down a hallway, heading in the direction of stairs, she saw patches of moonlight here and there were a window allowed them through, and the voices grew louder. She'd passed her parents room already, and turned to her right, down another hallway. This time she could just make out the first step of the stairs that would lead down into the common room, where the front door of the house was located. She was certain whoever was awake was down there—she could hear them even better now.

Alessa stopped in her tracks when she realized the female's voice belonged to her mother. She closed her eyes and listened hard, wondering if maybe she and Father were fighting about the Borgia again. Only, the man her mother was talking to wasn't her father. Alessa had no clue _who_ it was. She listened closely.

"What are you doing here?" her mother asked, clearly appalled at whoever had shown up for reasons Alessa didn't understand. "You shouldn't be here now. My family—they're asleep. They might wake if they hear us speaking."

"I apologize for the intrusion," came a deep voice, a man's, "I must speak with you now. I would have waited until they weren't here, but it's very important—"

"No. No, I cannot do this now. I can_not_," her mother said, and Alessa could hear by her tone how upset she was.

"But Celia—Celia _Moretti_, it has been long since—"

"_No_," Celia said, "No, you must leave. You must leave _now._"

Alessa stumbled back when she heard the front door close. She turned and headed to her room as fast as she could, her head swimming with terrible thoughts. She'd heard her friends speaking of things like this—the gossip that they would all eat up because of its scandalous nature. Bile rose in the back of Alessa's throat, bitter with the taste of betrayal. An affair. Her mother was having an affair with another man. And he came to her tonight, but she turned him away because of her _family_.

Tears stung Alessa's eyes. How could she call them family if she wasn't even faithful? How could Alessa truly believe in anything now, anything like finding love, _true_ love, after having believed that her mother and father had had true love? She wanted to sob, to cry out. But she couldn't—not here. So quickly she threw a cloak on over her nightdress, pulling it close around her body, and went to the window. Hastily, she climbed out of it, nicking and tearing the dress a little on the wood. But she didn't care.

She was careful to find footing as she quickly walked down the side of the roof, heading towards the walled in courtyard. Once there, she dropped down onto the ledge, her feet dangling in the air, and fell to the ground. She bent her knees, absorbing the impact, and then gathered her bearings.

Minutes later, she found herself on an unfamiliar street, illuminated here and there by torches kept on in the night. It was cold out—colder than the night before—and she shivered under her cloak. She hadn't yet come across anyone else, and she was thankful for it. Tears streamed down her face like endless rivers, dripping off her chin and landing on the cobblestone street below. Her black hair, loose in waves from sleeping, was tucked behind her ears, falling down her back. She wandered, not caring where she was going as she was lost inside her thoughts.

How could Mother do this? How could she betray her family like this—her _father_? It was so unlike her mother—her mother who had always been loving and caring, even if she'd been a little harder on Alessa than her brothers at some points. Her mother, who had been Alessa's idol for finding true love, since she had left her own family behind to marry her father. And the man she was secretly with—who was _he?_ Who was he to come and ruin their family—to steal Celia away? But then why did Celia turn him away? For their family? The man had said it'd been long—but long since what? Since they'd last seen each other?

Alessa's mind flitted from thought to thought, a rant of questions running through her mind, but not once did she stop to realize where she was, or what was around her. One moment, she was hurriedly rushing through the streets with no particular destination in mind, and the next she felt a firm hand get a grip on her arm. Another covered her mouth before she could cry out.

Instantly, she was pulled into an alley and shoved up against a wall. Her back had connected with it, and she cried out, but it came out muffled. She was slapped in the face because of this, but it only made her cry out more.

"_Shut up, cagna,"_ a rough voice hissed at her before shoving her up against the wall again, pinning her there with his body.

She could feel the heat of his rapid breathing on his neck. Her back ached where she'd hit it, and her face throbbed in pain. The alley was dark, dark enough that she couldn't see her attacker. By his voice, she knew it wasn't one of her suitors, trying to get revenge for her turning them away. It wasn't anyone she recognized.

"Get your hands off of me!" she shouted as soon as his hand left her mouth. She immediately regretted it, as he hit her face one more. Tears streamed down her face more rapidly than before.

"Now you are going to be a nice little girl and cooperate, or I swear," The man said darkly, and the gleam of a dagger shone in his hands through the darkness, "you will regret it."

It took only a moment for Alessa to think of a retort. She'd rather die than be raped—anything was better than to be forced upon. And after knowing what her mother had been doing behind her back all along, she didn't care what happened to herself. She didn't care about anything.

"I would regret it either way, you dirty piece of _merda!_" she cried out. Her cloak was gone—she didn't know if she'd dropped it when he'd grabbed her—but she was shaking even more in the cold, and now in fear.

Something that sounded feral, like a growl, came from the man's throat. She saw the gleaming dagger shift from hand to hand playfully, like she was just a toy. At the thought, she cringed. She knew this death would not be a pleasant one, but _anything_ would be better than being raped. She knew of a girl who'd been caught at night and raped, and ever since she hadn't left her home. Not once.

"Say one more thing," the man said darkly, "and I will slit your throat."

"Go. To. _Hell_," she enunciated each word, very clearly, and then spat on him.

The dagger was pulled back, high into the air—it seemed he'd rather stab her with rage than slit her throat—and just as it was descending upon her, the man cried out. Blood spurted from his mouth—she knew this because she could feel it being coughed onto her dress—and he dropped the dagger, gripping at his own throat. Alessa squinted and saw it—a blade had pierced all the way through his throat, sticking out in the front before it was yanked back. Her attacker fell to the ground, gurgling as he choked on his own blood. Alessa looked up, wide-eyed, seeing only a hooded figure in front of her.

"My God," she said slowly, looking at Ezio Auditore in awe, "How did you—_why_ did you—"she stopped, unable to form even a complete thought. Her mind was numbly in shock, and she was having a hard time processing the fact that she'd nearly died.

His silvery eyes shone on her through the dark, and he pulled her back onto the street, where she could once more see. A hand flew to her mouth the moment she saw the crimson blood over her white nightdress, and she thought in a panic that the man _had_ stabbed her.

"That is his blood," Ezio said, reading her thoughts in her eyes, "Not yours."

Alessa, still staring at it with wide eyes, nodded. "It is still _blood."_

Ezio sighed, his shoulders falling a little lower than their normal, confident tautness. "Yes," he said, "It is. Are you all right?"

Alessa nodded her head vigorously, still staring at the blood. She outwardly cringed when she felt a tender spot in her back give a jolt of pain. The shivering returned to her, as it was a cold night for it still being springtime.

"Here," Ezio said upon noticing her trembling. He pulled the strings that attached the cape to his robes up over his head and wrapped her in it. It was a heavy material, enough to give some warmth. "What are you doing out here?" he asked the moment he saw her trembling quell to small shudders.

Alessa shook her head and wiped at her tear-stained face gently, looking away from Ezio so he couldn't see. Her face was sore from when her attacker had hit her. "I just needed to be out of the house."

Ezio narrowed his eyes in a patient disbelief. "And I suppose you need to be out of the house nearly every night, then?"

Alessa laughed humorlessly, shaking her head once more. She pulled his cape around her body tightly, finding that it was much warmer than her cloak had been. "No. It is a coincidence that I've gotten away two nights in a row, now. I had not planned to tonight, but—I just needed to."

Ezio stared at her silently. Finally, "But you do realize that you could have died, just now, don't you?"

Alessa frowned and looked over to where she could just barely see the crumpled body of a bloodied man in the alley. Surely the guards canvassing this area in the morning wouldn't be very happy to find him. Or maybe they would be. She wasn't sure how the Borgia brainwashed them.

"Yes," she answered without inflection, "I know. But dying would have been better than what he'd wanted."

Ezio looked from her to the man, perplexed. "You are unwise to be out here, so late at night, but brave nonetheless."

Alessa looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "Thank you," she said genuinely. It was the first time a man had complimented her on a characteristic. The very first time—excluding her brothers and father, of course. Her eyebrows pulled together a moment later. "What are _you_ doing out here? How did you know what was happening? I did not think I'd ever see you again."

Ezio's mouth set into a grim line. "I was heading back… to where I am living, for the time being. I heard you cry out. It seems danger draws you close, these days. I had thought it to be another woman, though. Not you."

Alessa nodded, however skeptically. He'd have to have _very_ good hearing, then. And the part about danger drawing her close—was she really giving this stranger that impression? Her cheeks flushed, and she looked to the ground. That was when she noticed his right sleeve was bloody. It dripped crimson onto the cobblestone near his feat, staining it a darker charcoal color.

"I _see_ no weapon," she said, looking at his sleeve, "though you do have one, do you not?" She knew that _he_ knew she wasn't talking about the sword and dagger sheathed at his side, nor the crossbow upon his back.

He shook his sleeve out, splattering the rest of the saturated blood out of his stained robes and onto the street. The spot was no longer dripping. Then he let the blade slide out, revealing it to her. "Yes," he said slowly, watching the emotions in her eyes carefully, "It's hidden for convenience."

She nodded, unsure of what else to do. "I can see that."

The blade retracted, hidden once more. "I will walk you home," he said briskly, "So that another mishap doesn't occur on your way back."

Alessa frowned. "I don't want to go home."

"And why not?"

She sighed deeply, closing her eyes to prevent herself from crying again. "A family matter, I suppose. My mother—she has been keeping secrets."

Ezio's eyebrows shot up, he was entirely surprised. "You know, then?"

Alessa returned his look with confusion. "I know what?"

"I mean—do you know, then? The secrets you say your mother has kept," Ezio recovered quickly.

Alessa felt a pang of betrayal in her heart once more. "Yes. Yes I do. And I—" she stopped holding in a sob, and then in a strained voice, "I never thought my mother to be unfaithful."

"Unfaithful? Why is it you think she is unfaithful?"

"Because," Alessa began in a burst of rage, "I heard her! I heard her talking to whoever her lover is. He was at the house tonight—just minutes ago. That was why I left. I only just found out."

Ezio stared at her steadily, quiet for a few moments. "Did you confront your mother about it?"

She shook her head, pulling the cape tighter around her. "No. No, I don't think I can even face her right now."

"But," Ezio began gently, "How could you possibly know that she was truly unfaithful without confronting her about it? There are many things I had assumed in the past, and I regret having immediately made the assumption. You can never know without being _given_ the knowledge. You should give your mother the chance to explain herself."

Alessa regarded him strangely. "Do you really think so? That there is a chance she really hasn't been unfaithful, I mean."

Ezio crossed his arms, his usual confident stance returning to him. "Yes. Will you give her the chance, then?"

She bit her lip, not meeting his eyes. Could he be right? Could it just be some misunderstanding—was she wrong to simply assume? She supposed things couldn't get any worse if she confronted her mother, but if it wasn't true, then things could surely get much better. With a soft sigh, she met his eyes once more. "I will," she said quietly, "You may walk me home."

Ezio nodded and gestured for her to begin walking. Alessa turned around, starting home. They walked in silence for a few minutes—a silence that was tranquil and nice, not awkward and unwanted. It was very new to Alessa, having a male companion who she could just feel like herself around. If seeing a man twice made him a companion, that is. Three times, if she counted the time she saw him in the market. A sudden flash back to when he'd been wielding his sword shone in her mind's eye, the way he'd so easily fought the guards. And then it flashed to when her attacker's blade was nearly going to strike her, but then the man stopped and there was a blade stuck in his throat. Ezio was a killer. And she wasn't afraid of him—he even comforted her, in some strange way.

"Ezio," Alessa began, breaking the comfortable silence between the two, "Why do you do what you do?"

Ezio looked at her sidelong. "What do you mean, exactly?"

Alessa laughed, "I suppose I wasn't very specific. I mean, why do you… well, why do you kill? Twice, now, I have seen you kill. But you seem to have purpose. What is your purpose with killing?"

Ezio looked straight ahead now, at a tavern that was still open. Men stumbled in and out of it, either drunk or planning to get drunk. Courtesans went from man to man, trying to make a living. Beside him, Alessa was staring at him expectantly. He knew it. But he knew there were so many things he couldn't tell her.

"I kill to bring peace to _Roma_ in the future," he said carefully, "Because there are people who need protecting, who cannot protect themselves."

Alessa frowned slightly. "Like me," she said quietly, self-loathingly.

"No," Ezio said, "Not like you. You… you can protect yourself. You are braver than you realize, I think. You just… you haven't been given the proper knowledge."

"And what knowledge might that be?"

Ezio shook his head. A frown appeared on his face. "How far until we reach your villa?"

Alessa looked back ahead, disappointed. She'd hoped to finally know something about this Ezio Auditore, something that she couldn't just observe. She wanted to know what he knew, to obtain that knowledge. But he just wanted to get her home. Maybe, she thought, she was bringing him out of his way; bothering him. It'd be a first, for her.

"Ezio, if you do not want to walk me home, you don't have to. I can find my way just fine."

"No," Ezio objected, "I will walk you. It's no trouble, and I'd like to see to it that you get back safely."

Alessa nodded. "All right."

Suddenly the sides of Ezio's lips quirked up, and he glanced over at Alessa. "I see that tonight, you chose not to wear men's clothing. Why the change of heart?"

Alessa smiled, too. "Not a change of heart. If I could, I would be wearing them." Her smile fell into a frown. "But if Mother and Father saw me in them… they'd disown me. They'd promise me to some man I don't love and be rid of me."

"Is that why you're waiting for marriage? Because you want a man who loves you?"

She nodded, her eyes glued to the ground as she blushed. Never before had she admitted it to a man she wasn't related to. "Why should one marry otherwise? A loveless marriage is surely not a happy one. What's the purpose of it?"

Ezio regarded her. "You speak of purpose often. Is that what you were searching for, last night?"

Alessa's eyebrows crinkled together. "What?"

"Last night," Ezio said, "You said you were searching for something."

"Oh." Alessa blushed even more. He'd remembered that? "Yes. Purpose… it's life. Love. Happiness."

Ezio shook his head. "You forget the other half of it. Pain. Sorrow. Regret. Just because one has purpose, does not mean that they don't have terrible things to go along with it."

Alessa regarded him sadly. "You say that as if you've known it."

"I have."

"Have you ever been in love, Ezio?" Alessa asked quietly.

For a few silent moments, Alessa wondered if she'd asked the wrong thing—offended him somehow. But then he spoke up, equally as quiet.

"Yes," he said, "and since, I often wonder if the love remains, or if it has left me."

The villa came into view. Alessa didn't stop the conversation. "Love never leaves unless you let it. And it'll always stay strong, as long as you want it to be strong."

"Such meaningful words from someone who claims to have never known love, itself," Ezio observed with a ghost of a smile.

"My parents," Alessa said with a wistfulness that quickly diminished when she thought of her mother, "They've always seemed so in love to me. My mother even left her family to marry my father."

"You see," Ezio said, "You only need to let her explain herself."

"You sound so sure of yourself," Alessa said, deflated. She wasn't sure what to think—a nervous feeling erupted in her stomach at the thought of being wrong, that her mother really _did_ have a lover.

Ezio shrugged. "Soon enough, you will see."

Alessa came to a stop in front of the main door of the villa, pulling the cape even tighter around her and biting her lip.

Ezio looked up at the large villa, and then back at Alessa, "This is it?"

She nodded, and then gasped in shock. The front door opened quickly, her mother appearing on the front step equally as quick.

Celia held a hand to her heart, her mouth gaping open and her wide eyes staring between Alessa and Ezio.

"Alessa—what—you—"Celia stammered, pointing fingers between her and Ezio. Her face was white with rage. "_What are you doing?_"

"Mother!" Alessa said immediately, "I—I snuck out. I'm sorry—I just needed to think. This," she turned to Ezio, "Is Ezio. He saved my life."

"Ezio," her mother spoke through clenched teeth, glaring at the man next to Alessa, "Saved your _life_?"

Alessa nodded briskly, realizing her mother was angry. She'd been like this before—when Alessa had told a suitor no, and the next day there was a new one. Mother was probably feeling the same anger at her as that time. "Yes, Mother. I was almost—almost _raped_. He saved me. Please don't be angry, Mother, I promise this has nothing to do with Fulvio."

Celia closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. "Right. Of _course_ it doesn't. Alessa, get inside. _Now_."

Alessa spared an apologetic glance back at Ezio before obeying her mother, knowing that it was the only way they'd be on good ground when she confronted her. She slipped through the door, and stood behind Celia.

"You," Celia pointed a trembling finger at Ezio, "Leave. Now."

"Mother—"

"Shush, Alessa," Celia said, her anger just barely contained.

Ezio, outside, bowed at Alessa and her mother, and a moment later was gone. He'd walked out of sight so quickly; Alessa was left blinking at the spot he'd stood.

As soon as she pulled the door shut, Celia rounded on Alessa, her mouth open and ready to yell. But then she stopped herself, caught in Alessa's scared wide-eyed gaze, and her mouth clamped shut. Her usual pallor returned to her face, and she now looked upon Alessa with worry. She pulled her daughter close, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head.

"Is it true?" Celia asked as she pulled away to look at Alessa, all anger that had once been erupting from her diminished, "Were you almost… raped?

Tears stung Alessa's eyes as remembered the fear she'd felt, the panic, and then the surety that death was certainly better than rape. "Yes. Yes, it's true. But Ezio—Mother he saved me."

Celia's mouth tightened into a grim line. Maybe not all the anger had vanished. "Alessa, this Ezio—I do not want you feeling as if you owe him anything, just because he has saved your life. Do you understand me?" Celia's blue eyes locked with Alessa's mirrored color intently.

"You mean, 'Do not feel that the man is worthy of your attentions, just because he has saved your life,'" Alessa translated without inflection.

Celia sighed, her shoulders drooping. Alessa could see dark circles under her eyes, bleak signs of tiredness on her face against her fair skin. Her mother must have been waiting up for her for quite some time.

"You cannot trust a man like him. You think I do not recognize him, from the market the other day? The man shed blood as easily as one might _breathe_, Alessa. What kind of man is that?"

"A man with a purpose," Alessa said quietly, "With something he believes in."

Celia threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "So he has gotten to you already! Tell me, what things has he told you to get you to see his ways to be good?"

Alessa felt a nervous feeling suffuse through her stomach. "Mother," she said very clearly, "He gave me some very good advice. He said—well he said I must hear you out. I must not make assumptions."

Celia's expression turned from one of exasperation to puzzlement. "And what must you not make assumptions about?"

Sucking in a breath, to give her courage, Alessa continued on swiftly before she could back out of it. "Mother, are you being unfaithful to father? Are you seeing another man?"

The color drained from Celia's face again, only this time in dismay. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "How could you even _think _such a thing? What has even planted that idea in your head?"

Alessa stuttered. "I—you—oh, Mother!" She looked down, ashamed. "That is why I left earlier—I had woken up, and I heard people speaking quietly. When I got up to see who it was, I heard you speaking to a man. The conversation—the way it _sounded_! I had thought immediately that you had a lover!" Alessa held a hand to her face, discomfited.

"Oh dear," Celia murmured, holding a hand to her heart and looking upon Alessa ruefully. "Alessa, I am not unfaithful to your father. I love him very much—you know this! The man that had been here, this night…" she trailed off, biting her lip and casting her eyes to the floor, "he had been an old friend of my family's. But I have cut off all ties to them."

"Mother—I can't apologize enough—"

Celia held up a hand, halting Alessa's words. "You have no need to apologize. I understand how it had been confusing. I'm just grateful that you are all right, dear. If anything had happened to you—"Celia choked off, closing her eyes and clenching the fist at her heart. She shook her head slowly, breathing in and out. "I do not know what I would have done."

Alessa hugged her mother tightly again, guilt suffusing through her. "Nothing happened. Ezio saved me, mother. I'm fine."

Celia brushed Alessa's soft black hair with her hand. "Yes," she said quietly, "And I am thankful for that."

**A/N: Please take a moment to review and give me your thoughts, good or bad!(-: **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.**

**Five**

"Alessaaa!" a deep male voice called out, stirring Alessa from her sleep. "Alessa, sister, where are you? Get your lazy self down here and visit with us!"

Alessa's heart leaped. She would recognize Giacobbe's deep yet humorous voice anywhere. And he was only being amusing because he always acted that way when he and Ettore finally visited. She threw the blankets off of her and hopped out of bed, dressing as quickly as she could. In a woman's dress, of course. But nevertheless, she pulled open her door and leaped down to the common room, nearly sliding on the floor at her speed.

"Giacobbe!" she exclaimed exuberantly upon seeing him, flinging her arms around his broad shoulders, "And Ettore! You're here!" She grinned as she gave Ettore a hug as well, looking between her brothers with a beatific smile. It'd been a week since that night Ezio Auditore had saved her, and finally her brothers had decided to visit.

"Are we?" Giacobbe playfully mocked, "Are you sure you aren't just lost inside that head of yours, as usual?" He tapped the tip of her head with two fingers, a crooked smile on his face.

Ettore elbowed him in the ribs. "Easy, Giacobbe. At least she _does_ think. Perhaps you could take a lesson or two from her." Ettore smirked at Giacobbe, who rubbed at his head. That was when Alessa noticed there was a slash in his left eyebrow.

"What happened?" Alessa asked worriedly. She considered going to find a _doctorre,_ but it looked like he already had.

Giacobbe grinned at her. "Ettore told me to be careful—the masts were being swung for testing. I hadn't been thinking when I'd gone to retrieve my lunch, and ended up getting conked in the head!" He laughed heartily, but Ettore looked more serious.

That was one of the many differences between her two brothers. Ettore was the eldest. He was twenty eight years old, but had the wisdom of someone who'd lived a full life already. His eyes weren't similar to Alessa's at all—he had their father's hazel eyes. But his hair was black and shiny, messily off to the side in a style that seemed to only suit Ettore. He could often be witty and entertaining, but he was more serious than anything else. Whenever Alessa needed advice, or just needed to speak to someone, she went to Ettore. He was the most understanding person she knew.

And then there was Giacobbe. He had curly light brown hair, like Egidio, and light blue eyes that were more watery and pale, almost always lit up with his good-nature. Giacobbe almost never took anything seriously, but was loyal and kind and thoughtful, always looking out for others. He was four years younger than Ettore, and two years older than Alessa. Both of them were dressed in dark brown leather pants, matching boots, and white tunics with cuffed sleeves—very humbly, for their family. But that was how they were—modest and kind—unlike their parents. Alessa didn't think she could have asked to have better brothers.

"Have you already seen Mother and Father?" Alessa asked. She knew as well as they did that their parents would be none too happy with Giacobbe's injury, no matter how slight it was.

Giacobbe shrugged. "We wanted to see you first. Believe it or not, sister, but we _do_ enjoy your company almost as much as we enjoy teasing you. What is of your hair this morning, hmm? It looks like a bird has nested in it, permanently. I never realized you were one to tend to the strays." Giacobbe smirked at her, then ruffled her thick hair around some more.

"Hey!" she cried out with a laugh, shoving him away. But she barely budged him—it seemed the apprenticeship working on boats build up her brother's strength.

"Seriously, Alessa," Giacobbe said, anything but serious, "Has Illiana decided to quit you? Has she finally realized how high-maintenance you are?"

"Boy!" Illiana came around the corner quickly, scolding, "Do not speak like that. I would never quit Alessa." Illiana's hands were planted on her hips, a rag in her hand from cleaning. Her eyes flicked to Alessa, then, and widened. "My God, Alessa. You should have called to me before getting up this morning—I'll gladly do your hair!"

This only caused Giacobbe to laugh harder and elicited a chuckle from Ettore.

"But she doesn't care for the way her hair looks," Ettore spoke up, "I bet she thinks it's just fine."

Alessa smiled at him genially. "Thank _you. _I do think it is just fine."

"_I _ do _not!_" Illiana said, grabbing Alessa's arm. "Come. We'll have it done within minutes."

Illiana pulled a pouting Alessa up the stairs and back into her bedroom, sitting her down on a chair facing the mirror while she went to retrieve a brush. On her way back to Alessa, she stopped, her eyebrows shooting up. Alessa could see her in the mirror and turned towards her.

"What is it, Illiana?" she asked, standing, "What's wrong?"

Illiana smiled, a little wickedly, "Does your mother know, dear?"

Alessa's brows came together. "Know about what?"

Illiana laughed and then pointed to something beside Alessa's bed. "Does she know about this new man you're seeing?"

Alessa looked to see what she was pointed at, and then realization struck her. A week ago, before she'd gone back to bed, she had realized she still had Ezio's cape wrapped tightly around her. She'd unwrapped and carefully, neatly folded it up, setting it beside her bed. She wasn't certain if she'd ever see him again, but she felt bad for not returning it.

Alessa shook her head at Illiana. "I am not seeing any new man. I simply forgot to give that back the other night." She cringed suddenly, realizing how that sounded. Before she could say another word, Illiana's mind was going through a number of suggestive comments.

"The other night? So there was a man you were with some _night?_" Illiana led Alessa back to the chair, making her sit in it once more. With the brush in hand, she began working on untangling her thick mass of hair. "Tell me, Alessa, what is this man's name?"

"Illiana," Alessa whined, "I really am not seeing anyone. He saved me."

Illiana's eyebrows rose. "Saved you? Saved you from what?"

"A _bastardo_," Alessa spat, "Someone attacked me last week. He tried to rape me."

Illiana's hands froze completely. "_What?_ My God, are you all right?"

Alessa nodded. "I'm fine. Ezio saved me. He came just before the man was going to stab me—and he saved me."

Illiana shook her head, eyes wide in disbelief. "You are very lucky, do you know that? Had this Ezio not come along—I won't even _think_ it."

Alessa nodded solemnly and rubbed at her eyes. "I had bad dreams last night—I have ever since. That he _hadn't_ been able to save me. That he'd been just a moment too late."

"Oh dear." Illiana looked at Alessa sadly. "If you have bad dreams again, make a warm drink. It makes them go away."

Alessa nodded, storing that information away for later, if she needed it.

"But," Illiana drew out the word, "What of this cape? He gave it to you, did he?"

Alessa rolled her eyes. "Yes, he did. But I was shivering cold, and my cloak had gone missing during the attack. So he gave me his cape." She shrugged, knowing it was no big deal.

Illiana thought otherwise. "And did he wrap you up in it, too?"

A red hue suffused over Alessa's cheeks. "Does it matter?"

"He _did!_" Illiana exclaimed merrily, "Oh, I know he did, Alessa. How sweet."

Alessa pulled away from Illiana, seeing that her hair was perfectly combed through. "He was just being kind. That's all there is to it."

"And how do you know that?"

Alessa smiled slightly. "Because I asked him if he'd ever been in love. And he said that he had, but he wasn't sure if he was still, or if it had left him for good."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And I told him that love never leaves unless you let it, and that it'll always stay strong as long as you want it to. Perhaps he'll heed my advice and go and see this woman." The thought of helping someone reconnect with their love made Alessa feel blissful. It was truly romantic.

Illiana frowned. "But surely a man willing to admit such a thing—he's worth loving, is he not?"

Alessa gave her a puzzled look. "You mean—you mean _me_? Illiana, he is _already_ in love! I wouldn't even dare try to get his attention away from that woman. Love is love. And besides, I may not ever see him again. I do feel bad about not returning his cape." Alessa frowned down at it.

Illiana shook her head. "Perhaps fate will intervene."

Alessa smiled. "Perhaps. But I'm not certain if I believe in a fate. Thank you for helping with my hair, Illiana. I will see you later, though. I'm so happy Ettore and Giacobbe have returned!"

Alessa left her room quickly, returning to the first floor of the villa. But as she looked around, she saw no one was inside. The courtyard, then. Once she pushed through the door leading out to the courtyard, she saw that her parents were speaking with her brothers already. Her shoulders drooped—she knew her parents, mostly Egidio, didn't approve of Ettore and Giacobbe pursuing something other than the family business, and that was surely what they were speaking of right now. That talk never went over well.

Alessa approached them warily, but ready to speak up on her brothers' behalf. They'd done so for her many times.

". . . building ships is work of _labor_, boys, not work of the _mind_," Egidio was saying as Alessa walked closer, "You are both so very bright—"

"I am bright, Father," Ettore broke in, a crooked smile on his face even as his arms were crossed, "Giacobbe has been hit too many times in the head."

Giacobbe nudged Ettore in the chest, but laughed anyway. Edigio threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

"Everything I say to get you two to see that you are meant to be _businessmen _not _laborers_ goes in to one ear and out the other! Why do you refuse such an opportunity? It isn't as if I can leave it to your sister to—"Egidio broke off, seeing both of his sons' attempts to tell him that Alessa was standing behind him. He turned, an abashed look on his face. "Alessa, sweetheart—Alessa, wait!"

But Alessa had turned and fled to the door leading out of the villa, the tears already stinging her eyes as much as her father's words had stung her heart. She pushed through the door, hooking right on the street. She ran straight down until she came to an unoccupied bench and sunk onto it, burying her face in her hands. Her father didn't see her capable of running things. He didn't see her as intelligent enough, like the _boys_ were. A sob wracked through Alessa's body, and she held onto herself as she cried. Was it always going to be this way? Was she always going to feel so lowly?

"Alessa," Ettore's gentle voice came quietly from above her. She kept her face covered, hiding the tears. It was just another thing that made her more woman-like, wasn't it? A shift in the bench told her two people sat down, one on either side of her. Of course, she thought, wherever one was, the other went.

"Alessa, please speak to us," Giacobbe said pleadingly. He sounded distressed. Alessa rubbed away her tears, and then looked between her brothers.

"There's nothing to speak about," she said steadily, breathing in and out, "Don't you worry about me. I'm fine." She thought she sounded fine.

Ettore shook his head. "No you aren't. Father shouldn't have said that—and he doesn't mean it, Alessa. He knows how intelligent you are—how capable."

Alessa frowned and looked down at her hands. "Then why would he say it?"

Giacobbe snorted. "It's just another attempt to reel us in again. Ettore is right, Lessa. Father knows you are more than capable of taking over his work. He just—he doesn't like seeing _us_ do something else."

Alessa sniffled. "At least you can _do_ something else," she said quietly. "I am just a girl. I'm meant to marry. _Maybe_ to help with Fathers business. But it's unlikely, and you both know that."

Giacobbe caught Ettore's attention, and flicked his eyes down at their sister with worry. Ettore knew without words what he was asking. He shook his head sadly. Giacobbe frowned, his shoulders slumping.

"Alessa," Ettore spoke, "You are not just meant to marry, and you are not just meant to _maybe_ help Father. You can do whatever you like with your life. The question is: what is it you'd like to do?"

Alessa met Ettore's hazel eyes, her own puzzled. "Mother and Father would disown me if I did not do as they asked. I can't be like the two of you—they wouldn't put up with it. I can't go and do labor work—they wouldn't accept a woman for that—"

"No Alessa," Ettore interrupted quietly, "Not something like that. Something that you _want_ to do. You don't have to be like us—you just have to be you."

Alessa frowned again, her gaze traveling to their surroundings. There was a _sarto_ shop across the street. She could see a man working passionately on another piece of clothing as his partner called out to those walking around. A lone painter had set up an easel with a large canvas. He was catching the beauty of the bridge leading over to the _Castello_. Alessa felt it was a sort of bitter beauty, but the painter made it look differently. It almost looked like a haven, the way he swirled the colors together, leaving out any sort of guard. The bridge in the painting was one filled with commoners—it wasn't blocked off to the public. People laughed and smiled, going about their daily lives as if there wasn't some power-hungry family establishing this huge influence over them. As if all was good and free. Peace had been brought to _Roma_. She remembered those to be Ezio's words. He kills so peace could come over _Roma_ in the future.

"That," Alessa said, nodding her head in the direction of the painter. "I want that."

Ettore followed her gaze, as well as Giacobbe.

"You want to be a painter?" Giacobbe asked incredulously, "Since when could you paint?"

Ettore shot him a dirty look. "If she wants to be a painter, she'll just learn—"

"No," Alessa shook her head, "Look at _what_ he's painting. That. I want that."

Giacobbe squinted. "You want people to fill the bridge? Why? The guards would only push them off it."

Alessa shook her head again. "No, you aren't seeing it. _Peace_. I want to bring peace to _Roma_. I want the people to be free to do as they choose—not kept in fear of the Borgia."

"_Alessa_," Ettore hissed, "You _must_ keep your voice down." He looked over at Giacobbe with worry, who now mimicked his look. "If anyone were to hear you speak like that, you would be taken away. Do you understand me?" He gazed into Alessa's eyes hard. She'd never seen him quite so serious before.

"I understand," she said reluctantly. "But that's what I want, Ettore. It has such purpose—_that_ is what I want."

Ettore looked at her steadily. "You want _purpose_," he said quietly, "Not death. Not bloodshed. Do you know that _that _is what it would take to achieve peace in _Roma_?"

Alessa nodded confidently. "I do know that, actually."

Ettore shook his head. "You know it, but you do not understand its costs. Alessa—please walk home with us. Or we could go somewhere else, somewhere you would enjoy. We can speak more of what you'd like to do later on."

Alessa nodded and stood. "But what if Mother and Father don't approve? I was serious when I said they would disown me, brother."

Giacobbe shrugged as they began walking, heading back to the villa. "Since when did you let anyone own you, anyway?"

That elicited a grin from Alessa. "You're right. And speaking of someone trying to own me—you wouldn't _believe_ the man Mother had lined up for me this time!"

Ettore regarded Alessa seriously, but Giacobbe just rolled his eyes. "When will she stop trying to play matchmaker?"

"When I'm good and dead in my grave," Alessa said grimly, "Because Fulvio had been a pervert. How she could not see it is _beyond_ me."

"Alessa," Ettore spoke cautiously, "Did he do something to you?"

Alessa's eyes glued to the ground. Drudgingly, the memories from the other night came back. Fulvio's wet lips on her own—the way he'd tried to kiss her passionately. It'd been terribly disgusting. But he hadn't done anything to harm her. Then she remembered the man in the alley—he'd hit her. He'd almost _killed_ her if it wasn't for Ezio.

"Alessa," Ettore said firmly, breaking her out of her thoughts, "Did he?"

Alessa shook her head. "No. No he did not."

Ettore stared at her, unconvinced. "He better not have. Or else he'll have to answer to us."

"What?" Alessa began, her mouth quirking up, "You do not think I could take him myself?"

Ettore and Giacobbe laughed, slinging an arm over their sister's shoulders. They walked back to the villa in a companionable silence.

**A/N: A review would definitely be appreciated! Tell me what you like or don't like, or just what you think altogether, please. Thank you! (-:**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed. Only my little plot and my characters.(-:**

**A/N: I love Ettore and Giacobbe's characters! I plan to write a book someday using their personalities, and maybe Alessa's too. Here's the next chapter, and please don't forget to review!**

**Six**

Giacobbe Cappello stood halfway in his sister's doorway, cupping both hands around his mouth. "_Psst_. Alessa," he whispered, "Alessa, wake _up!_"

Moonlight streamed through her window, illuminating her just stirring figure on the bed. It made her black hair gleam, putting a sort of silvery halo around it. She slowly sat up and rubbed at her eyes, blinking into the dark shadows that covered her doorway.

"Who is there?" she called quietly, a frown on her face.

Giacobbe snorted comically. "What, are you expecting some secret lover?" Alessa cringed at this, remembering what she'd suspected their mother of. "Come on, Alessa. Hurry and get dressed."

"Why?" Alessa asked, suddenly on alert, "Has something happened?"

Through the darkness, she could see Giacobbe shake his head. "No. I thought you always liked to go out whenever we came? Put on Ettore's old clothes. We're going to race." The white of his teeth was visible, and she knew her brother was wearing the cocky grin he always wore when he spoke of racing.

Alessa threw the covers off her quickly as Giacobbe shut the door quietly, heading back down to the courtyard. Alessa went to the trunk at the end of her bed and pulled out Ettore's old clothes excitedly, pulling them on as swiftly as she could. It'd been months since she and her brothers had raced—much too long for her liking. She tightened a belt at her waist, so that the pants wouldn't bother her while she ran. After strapping on the leather boots, she headed towards her door, creeping out it and walking as quietly as a mouse to the courtyard.

Ettore was staring at the fountain with the stone angel grimly, when Alessa walked out. Giacobbe was staring at Ettore, amused.

"What's going on?" she asked, noting their contradicting expressions.

Ettore shook his head slowly, looking away.

Giacobbe just shrugged. "Nothing. Ettore's just being a stick in the mud. Are you ready?"

Alessa studied her eldest brother warily. "Ettore. Is something wrong?"

Ettore met her eyes, his hazel ones looking darker than ever in the night, and his black hair gleamed silvery where it was neatly brushed off to the side "No, sister, there's nothing to worry over. But if we do this, you must promise me to be careful. I haven't forgotten the last time, you know." He glared at Giacobbe.

Giacobbe smiled ruefully. "I suppose I should have been more careful since we were by the river, but how was I supposed to know Alessa would fall in? Besides—falling off a building into _water_ is much better than falling to the ground, is it not? Water is much softer."

"Yes," Alessa said mordantly, "And it's so great to almost drown, too, brother. The water tastes wonderful, I can assure you."

Giacobbe frowned. "Ettore saved you. It all turned out all right. I did apologize, Alessa."

She sighed wearily. "Yes, I know. And you were forgiven. I'm just not racing near the river anymore."

Ettore stood up straighter at this. "About that," he said, exchanging a look with Giacobbe, "We are changing the route entirely. No longer will we cross the Tiber Island—instead we will race to the Pantheon."

Alessa raised her eyebrows. "Why not to Tiber Island? We could still change the route, but keep the destination."

Ettore opened his mouth to say something, but Giacobbe spoke up first.

"What, are you afraid you're going to lose, sister?" He said, the cocky smile on his face once more.

Alessa smirked at him, crossing her arms. "Have I lost once, _brother?_"

Giacobbe looked at her, his smile unwavering. His eyes said were secretive and amused. "Things will be different, tonight."

"Oh?" Alessa was suspicious, "And why is that?"

"Because—"

"Because Giacobbe thinks the work we've done has made him stronger," Ettore broke in, giving Giacobbe a pointed look. "Building boats and ships may make one stronger, brother, but it appears it doesn't give one a sense of modesty, as it should."

Giacobbe looked down at his feet.

Alessa looked between the two, her eyes narrowed. It seemed that even Ettore was feeling more competitive. Rarely did he make a comment to make Giacobbe feel bad. "Okay," she said, "When do we start?"

Ettore took off running, running up the wall of the villa until he caught the ledge. Alessa blinked in surprise—he'd always been fast, but never _that_ fast. "Now!" he called as he pulled himself up with ease. Giacobbe was right behind him, leaving Alessa staring at the two with shock, still.

Her senses came back to her quickly. Her brothers may have started unfairly, but she'd won every single race before for a reason. Alessa decidedly ran out of the courtyard, onto the street just outside the villa, and headed for the closest tall building. It was one with a shop still open for the night. Alessa took off sprinting towards it. Once she neared it, she let her feet run up the side of it and then leapt to grab hold of a piece of wood with ivy growing around it. She scaled the building easily, locating hand and foot holds like it was second nature. In a way, it was for her. They'd been doing these sorts of things since they were children, and it wasn't something easily forgotten.

Once she pulled herself to the top of the building, she began running to the other side. It was dangerous, she knew, to be on a rooftop at night because of the guards. She didn't see either Ettore or Giacobbe, and she knew it was because they were taking the smarter way—there were pieces of wood that stuck out of buildings and iron decorations they could easily swing from without being detected. But if she wanted to get to the Pantheon before they did, the rooftops were the fastest.

Her heart hammered hard inside her chest, and she could hear it in her ears. Her fists were pumping rapidly in the air as she neared the edge of the roof. Another roof was just beyond it, only a few inches shorter than the one she was on. She leapt to it, timing it perfectly as she landed on clay tile. But she stumbled when a loosened one moved, falling and scraping her hands on the tile. She pushed herself to her feet immediately, not giving her hands any thought. Beating her brothers in the races always gave her great satisfaction—she could be just as good as they were. Better, even. And she would make it there.

Off in the distance, she could just see the Pantheon. Torches closer to the ground illuminated its face, leaving the top of it in darkness. She leapt from roof to roof, occasionally swinging from a clothing line void of any drying clothes, since it was a cool night. Sometimes there would be planks of wood set up from one ledge to the other, growing a green leafy vine on it. She'd never realized before just how much faster it was to travel on the roofs.

As she ran, her feet were as usual naturally quiet, just padding against the tiles. Euphoria suffused through Alessa when she realized she was getting closer to the Pantheon very quickly, and she grinned.

That was when Ettore, swinging from a piece of ironwork to a ledge of wood on the side of the building she ran on, saw her. He stopped immediately, alarmed.

"Alessa!" he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Alessa skidded to a stop, hearing the panic in Ettore's voice. Had Giacobbe fallen off of something? She turned until she saw him, below the ledge of the roof she was on. Giacobbe raced by both of them, and her heart sank.

"Ettore!" she huffed unhappily, "That wasn't very nice!" She turned and sped up again, leaving Ettore blinking at her as she did. He jumped and swung as fast as he could to catch up to her, preparing to scale to the top of the roof as well when he saw it.

There was a guard on a building to the right, just where Alessa was running by. He'd already spotted her and had his crossbow aimed, ready to fire. Ettore's heart beat rapidly. "No!" he shouted as loud as he could, on the verge of being frantic, "Stop! _Alessa!"_

Alessa stopped once more, sensing that something was definitely wrong this time. Just as she turned to find Ettore again, something struck her in the arm. Alessa screamed, falling to the tiles instantly and painfully.

Ettore cried her name, scrambling up to the roof. In his peripheral vision, he could see the guard aiming to shoot again. So swiftly that the guard didn't even see it, Ettore grabbed a knife from his boot and flung it at him. A sickening _thunk_ sounded when it struck the guard right in the head, killing him on the spot. But he wasn't Ettore's main focus.

"Alessa," he said, panic filling his voice as he rushed over to her. She was lying on the clay tiled roof, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted. Her eyes were wide, looking at her right arm where a hand covered the spot that was bleeding. An arrow lay beside her, the tip of it saturated with blood. "Alessa, how bad is it? Let me see."

When she made no response or reaction, Ettore fell to his knees beside her, gingerly pulling her limp hand away. He breathed out a loud sigh of relief. The arrow had only nicked her, just missing hitting her arm. There was a cut on the side of it, but nothing that wouldn't heal within a few days. As long as they stopped the bleeding soon.

"Alessa," Ettore said calmly, trying to catch her attention, "Alessa, look at me. _Look_." Alessa's wide eyes turned from the slash on her arm, oozing blood, to Ettore's eyes. "You're in shock, okay?

Alessa said nothing. She just stared at him, only comprehending that he was speaking, but not understanding exactly what it was he was saying.

Ettore cursed under his breath. When the sound of soft footsteps on the clay tile came from behind him, he tensed and looked over his shoulder immediately, his hand on another knife.

"Easy," Giacobbe said, showing his hands, "It's only me. I came back when neither of you showed up." He came closer, squinting down at Alessa. "What's happened?"

"She's in shock," Ettore said, also looking at his sister. "A guard nicked her with an arrow—it just barely missed her. I think she's just trying to come to terms with the fact that she almost died."

"She almost died when she fell into the river that one year," Giacobbe said, sounding unconcerned, "She wasn't in shock then."

Ettore gave him a dirty look. "That was because I pulled her out before she sank far under the water, and she knew what had happened. She didn't see it coming this time. She only saw me, and then she screamed as the bow slit her arm. Where's your empathy? I swear some days I don't believe the same blood runs through our veins."

Giacobbe frowned, looking at Alessa now with newfound concern. "What of the guard?"

"Dead," Ettore said quietly, "No need to worry about him. But if others see us up here…"

"Right. We should get her down to ground."

Ettore nodded. "You just keep an eye out for other guards. I'll carry her down."

Giacobbe straightened, looking every which way for a sign of another guard. He frowned again, realizing something wasn't right. He put a hand on Ettore's shoulder, who had already lifted Alessa into his arms. "Wait. That guard—where is his—"Ettore gave him a warning look, "—you know. Where was he last?"

Ettore shrugged, nodding his head to the other roof but not looking. "There."

Giacobbe's frown deepened. "And had he been near the edge when you—you know."

Ettore looked at him significantly. "Yes. Why?"

Giacobbe's shoulders slumped. "Because he isn't there anymore." He walked quietly to the edge of the roof and gazed over it. Ettore stared at him intently. "He's down there."

"_Merda_," Ettore cursed. "And are there other—"

"Guards?" Giacobbe finished, grim. "Yes. There are several."

Ettore shook his head. "We need to get her to a doctor. He needs to see her wound, and he needs to talk some sense back into her." His gaze moved upward, to the shining moon and stars. "And we need to get to one before he closes for the night."

Giacobbe nodded. He walked to the other side of the roof. "More guards over here. Do you think they've been told to search the area?"

Ettore's mouth tightened into a thin line. "We have to assume. Soon, though, they will come to the roofs. Is there a way down, over there?"

Giacobbe smiled wickedly. "Are you thinking…?"

"That you are fast enough to be a distraction? No. But I'm hoping you are."

Giacobbe narrowed his eyes at Ettore. "There's a terrace over here. It should be easier to climb down with her. And as for your rude comment, I'll be back in time to see to it that the doctor fixes her up right."

Ettore smirked. "Right. See you, then, brother." His smirk instantly turned grim. "Be careful. You know what to do."

Giacobbe nodded seriously. "See you then." He then proceeded to hop down to the terrace easily, and then threw himself over to the next building, retreating down to the ground.

Ettore heard Giacobbe say some overtly inappropriate things about one of the guard's wives, and then heard the scrape of metal as many of them unsheathed their swords, crying out retorts before they took off after Giacobbe. Ettore listened a moment longer before deciding it was clear for him to go down. Alessa was cradled in his arms, but he knew that was no way to carry her down. He settled her over his shoulder, being cautious so that her injured arm wouldn't hurt any more than it already did. Then he stepped to the edge of the roof, holding his sister carefully, before hopping down into the terrace below. He looked down over it, seeing with some relief that, to his left, there was much higher ground. Stairs led down into a small area of shops. Unfortunately, there was no doctor among them and most were already closed.

Ettore stepped onto the railing of the terrace with expert balance, and then propelled down to the ground below. He landed with a grunt, but Alessa hadn't made a sound.

"Alessa," he said quietly as he cradled her again, "Are you all right? Did that hurt?"

Alessa shook her head slowly, but that was all she could bring herself to do.

"Okay," he said gently, "Good. Now I'm going to get you to a doctor. Just—just keep a hand over the cut, okay?"

She did as he asked, but her eyes were distanced, as if she only heard bits and pieces of what he was saying.

Ettore frowned deeply, but turned in the direction of the shops. He walked briskly but carefully down the steps and into a wide square. People were still milling around—there was a tavern to Ettore's right, and it looked to be very popular that evening. He had a choice between two small thoroughfares as he came upon them. But as he sighted guards rounded the corner of the one on the right, he quickly ducked into the left. It was dark, only lit with torches here and there, but it was enough to see by. He suddenly recognized exactly where he was, too. A doctor lived around here—the one they'd taken Giacobbe to stitch up the slash in his eyebrow.

Quickly, he came upon the right door and began knocking on it. Guilt filled his chest for rousing the doctor in the middle of the night, but then he looked down at Alessa—wide eyed, distanced Alessa—and it went away as quickly as it came. She was his little sister—his _baby_ sister. He didn't care if he'd have to wake up all of _Roma's_ doctors, just so they could look at her.

"Miss me?" Giacobbe said smugly as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe.

Ettore rolled his eyes. "Doctor Regilli?" He called out, "Doctor, it is me, again. Ettore Cappello. My sister—she needs to be seen right away." No answer. "Doctor, I'm sorry—"

The door opened swiftly, revealing a man in dark, solemn clothes. His face was unmasked and bare, showing how wizened his skin was. But Ettore knew that his old age did not affect his treatment.

"Cappello," Doctor Regilli spoke shortly, "I should have figured. Nothing but trouble comes for the two of you, and—"he stopped, realizing what Ettore had in his arms. "And who is this?" he asked, more gently. He gestured for the boys to come inside, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. Then he shut the door firmly behind them.

Ettore had been in the doctors cluttered home before. Around the room were bookshelves, almost overfilled with books of all kinds. Tables were placed about erratically, covered with anything from masks and clothing to catgut and other supplies. There was a large desk in the center of the madness, cleared off for occasions like this. He picked his way through the mess of books, parchment paper, bottles of things he had no name for, and the odd jar of… something even more questionable. Then he gingerly placed Alessa on the table and turned back to the doctor.

"She is not hurt severely," Ettore said, "But she needs her arm to be stitched up. And I think she is in shock."

The doctor moved to a table with what appeared to be a shrunken head on it, shuffled around, and came up with some fresh catgut and a needle. He walked to Alessa on the table, pulling up a creaky chair to sit on. He examined her cut in silence. Both brothers stood off to the side together, clenching and unclenching their fists. The whole ordeal still bothered them greatly.

"What made this cut?" The doctor inquired after a moment of total silence.

Ettore looked at his hands, ashamed. "An arrow. It almost hit her, but ended up just nicking her enough to where the bleeding won't stop very well on its own."

Doctor Regilli nodded, his mouth pulled into a tight line. He poured alcohol over her arm, making her flinch, and then began stitching her wound. She looked as if she didn't even realize what the doctor was doing.

"Care to tell me how it was that an arrow came flying at the girl?"

Ettore and Giacobbe exchanged stern glances.

"It was an accident," Ettore said finally. "We were just messing around—racing. She'd decided to take the rooftops. A guard spotted her. He must have thought her to be a thief of some sort, and just shot at her."

"A thief," the doctor said quietly, "or an _assassino_?"

Ettore blanched. He looked at Alessa—she still seemed to be somewhere else, almost as if deep in thought—and then back at the doctor. "Pardon me?"

Doctor Regilli met Ettore's eyes steadily. "I am no fool, boy. I have heard the rumors, and I even know them to be true. You said your brother," he nodded at Giacobbe, who flushed, "had merely been hit with a mast. Had he been hit in the head with a mast, he would have had a concussion—trouble with the brain. That was not the case."

"Doctor," Ettore whispered, "You must not speak of such things. They aren't true, and I do not want my sister to come to her senses only to hear things about that. It would not quell her fear—her shock."

"I suppose it wouldn't," the doctor said in a clipped tone. He finished the stitching. "She'll need to come back to have that taken out. And you owe me."

Ettore nodded, fishing around in his purse for a few _fiorini_. He handed them to the doctor. "I'll give you more when we come back. What of her shock?"

The doctor shook his head slowly, gazing down at Alessa. "I'm not certain if she is in fact in shock. I've seen it before, and it did not look like this."

Giacobbe frowned. "I don't understand. If not shock, then… what?"

"Perhaps," the doctor said grimly, giving the two boys dark looks, "Realization."

**Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.**

**Seven**

Giacobbe and Ettore left Doctor Regilli's home, both brows furrowed in concern. Ettore cradled Alessa in his arms once more, but she seemed to be becoming more lucid. More understanding of what was happening around her. What would she say? Was what she thinking? He exchanged a worried look with Giacobbe.

Alessa looked around, her eyes seeing reality now, but with a twinge of dreamlike clarity. Somehow, for some reason she didn't understand, things looked different. They felt different. _She_ felt different, on the inside. Briefly, she noted a pain in her arm, but she wasn't concerned. She knew what had happened—the arrow. The guard had been aiming for her heart, she was absolutely certain of it. And somehow, in some way, she'd known exactly what to do, as if a second nature had taken over, putting her body on autopilot. The arrow had been flying through the air, almost in slow motion from the way she'd seen it, and she'd moved, twisting out of the way of it with the ease and grace that came only from practice she'd never had. Her scream had merely been a cry of surprise, only amplified because of just how surprised she'd been. The cut didn't hurt very much.

Alessa didn't understand why but being on the rooftop in the dark of the night, the guard trying to kill her, the arrow just missing her arm—it all seemed to be _right_ for some reason. Like—like it was something normal, but it wasn't, not even a little bit. How did that make any sense?

". . . what Mother and Father will say. I mean, it's not like we can carry her back into the house without alerting them—"

"There's no need to carry me anymore, brother," Alessa said wearily to Ettore, interrupting Giacobbe. She shoved lightly at Ettore's chest, trying to get him to let her to her feet.

Ettore looked down at her, his mouth pulled into a tight line. "Are you sure? Only a minute ago you didn't seem… right."

"It's quite the opposite, actually," Alessa said, the uncertainty clear in her voice, "But I am fine." Ettore looked unconvinced. "Ettore," she said firmly, "Let me down. Now."

Ettore frowned, but did as she asked.

"How is it… the opposite?" Giacobbe asked curiously. "You looked dazed. Not very there."

Alessa shook her head. "I was thinking. The arrow—the _guard._ It all just seemed… familiar somehow."

Giacobbe furrowed his brows. "You baffle me, Alessa. I do not understand the way you see things."

Ettore, however, looked much more serious. More than his typical disposition. "What do you mean '_familiar'_," he asked carefully. He was tense as he regarded his sister.

Alessa shook her head. "I… I don't know how to explain it. It felt like it'd happened before—except that it's never happened before. How does that make any sense at all?"

Ettore and Giacobbe exchanged masked looks, making Alessa even more curious.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at them. "What are you two thinking?"

"Nothing," Ettore said, brushing a dismissive hand in the air, "Although we do need to get you home. It's bad enough that it's gotten so late—its worse that you are injured. Mother and Father won't be very happy."

"Mother and Father won't be bothered if they don't know," Giacobbe suggested.

Alessa looked between the two, her eyes narrowed still. "I get the feeling that you two are hiding something from me."

Ettore frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"Well," she said, "For starters, since when do either of you care what Mother and Father think? You went off on your apprenticeship, even though they told you not to."

"This is different," Ettore said arguably.

Alessa planted her hands on her hips, looking at him intently. "How?"

Giacobbe rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. "Because it has to do with _you_, dear sister. They would kill us if they knew you were hurt on our watch. We're supposed to protect you."

Alessa frowned deeply. "I don't need to be protected. I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Oh?" Ettore cocked an eyebrow. "Can you, now? Could you have gotten yourself off that roof and to a doctor? Could you have fended off any guards who would have come up to investigate? You must not confuse your ability to be _you_ with the ability of overestimation."

Alessa crossed her arms. "I am not overestimating myself, Ettore. And no, I may not be able to do all of those things—yet."

Ettore and Giacobbe both blanched, their faces turning a pale ashen color. "Yet?" they asked in unison.

"Yes," Alessa said confidently, "Yet. Someone once told me that I can protect myself; I just haven't been given the proper knowledge to do it. _Yet_." Of course he hadn't exactly said yet, but that didn't mean that Alessa wasn't a firm believer that she could learn.

"And who told you this, exactly?" Ettore asked with a dark gleam in his eyes.

Alessa thought of Ezio. Ezio killed the guards at the market. Ezio killed the man who attacked her. Ezio was dangerous—someone she really didn't want her brothers going out in search of. She knew from past experience how overprotective both Ettore and Giacobbe could be. If she told them about Ezio, then it was very likely that they would try to hunt him down and beat him up. She knew better than to tell them—surely one or both of them would get hurt severely in the process, even if Ezio only did what he did for the future peace of _Roma_.

"No one important," Alessa said quietly, looking at her feet.

Ettore gazed at her intently, not believing her for a second. "Really? Are you sure?"

Alessa nodded, keeping her eyes averted. She couldn't look Ettore in the eyes and lie. She could never do that.

Giacobbe frowned in disappointment. Ettore's mouth tightened into a line. "Fine. Keep this person a secret, Alessa. But if I do find out, I will make sure they learn a lesson or two for planting very dangerous ideas into that stubborn head of yours."

Alessa finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "You shouldn't say that, Ettore. They didn't mean any harm in it."

"Then why won't you tell me who it was? Why lie to me? You've never lied to me before. You've never lied to either of us."

Alessa sighed quietly. "I'm sorry. It's just—it's too dangerous."

Ettore regarded her with a concerned look, now. "Too dangerous? Alessa—what have you gotten yourself mixed up in? I demand to know. Now."

"Ettore—I really can't say. It's too dangerous, should _you_ go after him." Alessa's eyes widened as she realized her mistake. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

"_Him?" _Ettore's eyes widened with disbelief. "So it is a man who has been telling you these things? And here I was thinking… never mind. Is _he_ a new suitor, perhaps?"

"_No ," _Alessa said in a strained tone, "Please Ettore—can we just go home?"

"Maybe she's right," Giacobbe spoke up, "We should go before Mother and Father realizes she's gone."

Ettore shook his head, standing his ground. His eyes never left his sister's. "I am not finished with this conversation. We will leave when I say so. Alessa, what has gotten into you lately? Has something happened in the villa?"

Alessa made a pained noise, putting a hand to her heart and shutting her eyes.

Ettore immediately went to her side. "Something _has_ happened in the villa. Tell me, sister," he said gently.

Alessa shook her head, abashed. "No—it was me. I . . . suspected Mother of having an affair."

"An affair?" Giacobbe's eyebrows rose almost comically. "_Our_ Mother?"

Alessa frowned, telling them the story of how she'd misinterpreted the conversation. But she frowned deeper when she saw her brothers' exchange looks again.

"What is with the two of _you?_" she asked abruptly. They both regarded her with innocent looks. She crossed her arms, huffing petulantly. "I shared my story. Now you have to tell me what is going on with you both. You keep looking at each other like you're worried about something and you've been doing that ever since you arrived. What is it?" She held a hand to her chest a moment later, sucking in a gasp. "Did you lose your apprenticeship? Is that—"

"No, Alessa," Ettore said steadily, "We still have it. You're imagining things, dear sister—nothing is wrong. We were only worried for _you_."

Alessa scowled. "Right."

Suddenly Alessa felt so tired. She was tired physically, and she was tired of everything going on. First, she'd suspected her mother of something, and now here she was accusing her brothers of hiding something. What kind of person did that make her out to be? Sure, they _seemed_ like they were hiding something—in fact she was almost certain they were—but it could very easily just be that one of them finally met a girl. She inwardly chastised herself—she needed to stop looking into things so much and just _trust_ people better.

"Can we please head home now?" Alessa asked wearily. "I'm not sure how much longer I can stay awake. I haven't been sleeping well, lately."

Ettore nodded, and they finally headed off in the direction of home. As they walked, he turned to her with a frown. "And why haven't you been sleeping well?"

Alessa scowled at him. "You better not mention anything about a lover—_I_ do not have one, okay?"

Bewildered, Ettore looked from Giacobbe, who was stifling laughter, and his sister. Slowly, he said, "But that wasn't what I was thinking."

"Yeah, well it was what _Giacobbe_ thought. Or at least it was a comment he made."

Giacobbe's laughter broke free, echoing through the empty streets. "Do not be so touchy, sister. It just makes it seem all the more true."

"Well it is _not,"_ Alessa glowered at him, "I have been having bad dreams nearly every night."

"Bad dreams?" Ettore asked with a frown. "Of what?"

Alessa shook her head, once more chastising herself inwardly. She couldn't bring Ezio up. "They're just common bad dreams. But for some reason, they won't go away. Not even when I drink a glass of something warm, like Illiana suggested."

"Well maybe—"Ettore broke off suddenly. The clash of metal on metal clattered through the streets, once more another echo adding to the quiet night. Both Giacobbe and Ettore stopped, standing up straight, clenching their fists reflexively. Alessa, unaware, looked back at them with surprise. She stopped a few paces ahead.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing around curiously. The clashing continued, and she could hear a man cursing as another man shouted at him. Something about an _assassino_. The noise was one she recognized as sword fighting. Frightened, Alessa looked back to her brothers only to realize that now only Giacobbe was standing there, looking at her with a mixture of sadness and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

"Where did Ettore go?" she asked, her voice coming out high and pitched.

Giacobbe came towards her, grabbing her elbow gently. "Come. Let's get you home."

Alessa tugged her arm out of his grasp. "No, you did not answer my question. Where is he?"

Giacobbe shrugged casually, his face a mask. "He said he left something at Doctor Regilli's." He smirked suddenly, but not quite to the extent he usually did. "I almost feel bad for the doctor, getting woken up in the middle of the night twice now."

The clashing sounded again, but then it ended completely. The streets were left eerily silent. Something didn't feel quite right to Alessa.

"Shouldn't we wait for him, Giacobbe?"

Giacobbe shook his head, gesturing for her to start heading to the villa again. "He's a man, Alessa. He can find his own way back. Do not worry about him."

Alessa frowned, glancing back at the way they came. It was empty—there was no sign of Ettore. There were still no more clashing sounds—the sword fight had ended. Perhaps it had been a few drunks getting in a quarrel over a woman at a tavern—it wouldn't be the first time. But something didn't settle right with Alessa; she felt uneasy. Allowing Giacobbe to lead them back to the villa, she continued to cast glances over her shoulder, hoping to see Ettore sprint up with whatever he'd left at the doctor's home. But he didn't. Not even when they reached the front door.

Giacobbe was holding the door open, waiting for Alessa to walk through. She bit her lip, looking down the wide thoroughfare that Ettore should emerge from.

"Alessa," Giacobbe said gently, "Go and get some rest."

Alessa shook her head. "It worries me not to know where he is."

Giacobbe sighed. "Will it make you feel better if I wait here for him?"

She turned and looked at her brother, biting her lip harder. "Would you do that?"

"Of course," he nodded, smiling. "I had planned to, anyway. Please go to bed, Alessa. You look exhausted, and your arm needs to heal."

Alessa nodded. "You're right. Just—make sure he gets back okay." Alessa lingered inside the doorway a moment longer. "Goodnight, Giacobbe. Tell Ettore I said goodnight when he gets back."

"I will. Goodnight, sister."

Alessa walked into the dark villa, resolutely making sure she didn't look back. Giacobbe closed the door behind her, staying outside. Standing in the darkness of the cold common room, Alessa knew it would be useless to warm up another drink tonight. The bad dreams were unyielding, and she would just have to face them head on.

_It was dark, but not dark enough that shadows weren't casted off the tall buildings, creating small pockets of black holes in the corners of the square. The stone ground was unique to the Centro District, a pale grey with intricate inlaid colored stone carving patterns in it. Hay chunks whispered over the ground by the slight wind, left over from all the travelers on horses earlier in the day. The murmur and laughter from a tavern could be heard some ways away, but the square itself was quiet, lonely. _

_The loneliness was broken up as soon as a man, dressed and masked in off-white robes, ran into the square. His breathing was hard and ragged, and once he'd reached the middle of the square, where a large splash of moonlight was, his robes resembled the face of the moon. They had a sort of glow to them, and yet physically didn't. It was as if an energy of some foreign kind pulsed throughout them. _

_On the man's heels were several guards, all shouting threats and profanities as they determinedly chased him down. It seemed that the man was tired, not very strong, because a moment later, a guard managed to nick the back of his robes with a knife. The man muffled his cry out as he stumbled to the ground, reaching for a dagger sheathed at his side. Bright crimson blood stained the back of his robes, seeping into the fabric at a steady pace._

"_Your end draws near, assassino!" a guard spat, brandishing a sword._

_The man slewed the dagger at the guard, but his balance was off and he stifled a cry of pain once more as he gripped at the wound on his back. He parried off the guards next attack, but it didn't look like he could hold out for much longer._

_Suddenly another man stepped out of the shadows, also masked with a hood over his head, although he lacked the heavy robes of the man warding off more attacks. He seemed younger, more cautious and calculating. He approached the guards' unseen from behind. The gleam of a dagger reflected in the moonlight, as soon as he raised his hand to sink it into one of the guards' heads. _

_The guard crumpled to the ground. The man in the robes took this advantage to lash out at the guard distracted by his partner's demise, striking him in the chest with sequential hits until he whipped around and slit his throat. Within seconds, bodies were on the ground, groaning with the final sounds of encroaching death. The newcomer approached the robed man, whose bloody dagger had clattered to the stone as he breathed raggedly again, only this time in obvious pain. _

_They were speaking to each other, but no sound came from their mouths. The younger man examined the wound on the robed man's back. The robes had been pulled away, exposing a bloody shoulder blade, a lesion set deep into it. Through all the blood, the scar of what appeared to be a crescent moon could be seen, white and vivid even in the absence of light. _

Alessa woke, panting heavily. Beads of cold sweat gathered at her brows, on her chest, her arms and legs. It was morning. Bright sunlight streamed through the window next to her, making her dream seem anything but real; it didn't feel like she'd even had it at all. But she looked down at her exposed forearm—Mother didn't have her nightdresses hemmed with sleeves. No one would see it at night—the white, vivid scar that resembled a crescent moon. Her eyes were wide, disbelieving. And then she remembered what she'd heard the night before—_assassino. _

**Please review! I always like to hear from you! (-:**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.**

**Eight**

Tears stung Alessa's eyes, as they always did when her brothers were leaving once again. Another week had past in the blink of an eye, and they were already preparing to depart, going to their apprenticeship for several more months. She supposed time had seemed to move quickly since she'd enjoyed her brothers' company so much, but she just wished they didn't have to leave.

Her arms were wrapped around Ettore, hugging him tightly as she fought the tears. He pulled away from her and smiled ruefully. They were standing in the common room. The door to the street was open, letting in the sounds of people talking outside. People who were able to stick together—who didn't have to say goodbye and wait several more months until they were able to see the people they loved once more.

"Don't be sad, Alessa," Ettore said, "We'll be back again."

Alessa nodded. A lump had formed in her throat from holding back the tears, making it painful to speak. "I know," she whispered, meeting his eyes. Ettore was always so calm, so kind and wise. She _did _know that they would be back again, but just hearing him say it made her feel a little better.

Giacobbe laughed and hugged Alessa, lifting her off the ground and twirling her. Alessa echoed his laugh, smiling down at the amused blue eyes that reflected her own. "Giacobbe," she giggled, "Let me down!"

Giacobbe set her back on her feet, giving her his crooked smile. He ruffled her hair. "You're light as a feather. Have you been eating, Lessa?"

Alessa glowered at him petulantly.

Giacobbe only found this funnier. "I said 'light as a feather' as an afterthought. I was _going_ to say 'heavy as a horse', but I thought better of it."

Ettore looked up at the ceiling, as if looking to God. "My God. My brother thinks for once. But it seems that even thinking is broken for him, for he can't even keep his mouth shut when even _he_ knows better."

Alessa laughed and nudged Giacobbe's ribs. "I will miss you both terribly," she said sadly.

"We will be sure to visit sooner, this next time," Ettore said, "We wouldn't have taken so long this time, if it weren't for the increase in business. The boss needed us to stick around and help."

Alessa nodded. "I understand. Did you already say your goodbyes to Mother and Father?"

"Oh, yes," Giacobbe said with exaggerated enthusiasm, "And I could have sworn that, underneath Father's muttered goodbye, he wanted to say something much, much meaner."

Alessa gave him a reproachful look. "Giacobbe, it's not something to make fun of. I don't like the fact that you two and Father aren't on good terms anymore."

"It's nothing for you to worry about," Ettore said gently. "It's our own problem, and laughing at it is Giacobbe's way of dealing with it. Trust me when I tell you that it is not easy, being estranged from him."

"Then why not try harder to make him understand, the way Mother does?"

Ettore shook his head solemnly. "Mother has her own reasons for understanding. One of them being that we are her children and a mother never pushes away her children, Alessa. She accepted it because she knew it was what we wanted. She knows that we are safe with this job."

Alessa frowned. "But if a mother never pushes away her children, why would a father? That doesn't make sense, Ettore."

Ettore sighed. "I'm afraid we broke Father's heart by not wanting to continue what he built." Ettore shook his head in consternation. "A broken heart isn't easily mended, especially when it's his children who have broken it. But," he gave her a small smile, "As I said, it is not for you to worry over. He will come around, eventually."

Alessa nodded. "I do hope so. Are you to leave now, then?"

"Well," Ettore began, exchanging a look with Giacobbe, although it seemed lost on him, "There is just one more thing I want to tell you. Do you remember your way back to Doctor Regilli's home?"

"Yes," Alessa nodded. She could still feel the stitches pulling at her skin uncomfortably.

"Good." Ettore fished around in his purse, pulling out a few _fiorini_ and holding his hand out. "Then take these when you go to see him about getting your stitches out."

Alessa blinked at his extended hand. "I can use money from what Father gives me. There's no need to give me yours—you _earn_ it."

Ettore shook his head, promptly moving his hand closer. "Take it. It's my fault you were hurt in the first place—I at least want to pay the doctor for helping."

"It wasn't your fault," Alessa protested, "I was the one who went to the rooftops. I knew better." Her shoulders fell in shame.

"Alessa," Ettore looked at her intently, "It isn't your fault. Now please, take the money."

Acquiescently, Alessa took the money. Her eyebrows shot up a moment later. "But—Ettore, this is more money than what a few stitches would call for." She gave him a questioning look.

He shrugged casually. "As I said, I would like to pay the doctor for helping. I am grateful that he was willing to get up in the middle of the night. Just—when you go back, know that he is… a little eccentric, this doctor."

Alessa raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"An eccentric man is an eccentric man, Alessa. No matter how. Just remember that, okay?"

Alessa studied Ettore. He seemed tense, like something was wrong. Did he not like this doctor particularly much? "Okay," she said finally, "I'll remember that."

"Good," he smiled. "Then I suppose it is time for us to be on our way. We will see you again, sister. Be well and watch out for Mother and Father."

"And fend off the next Fulvio," Giacobbe added. "Actually, if there is another suitor like him, promise you'll write to us. We can take care of it."

Alessa looked between the two, a small smile pulling at her lips. Ettore didn't disagree. In fact, he looked like he very much agreed.

"All right," she said, "Be careful. I know you're only building ships but—"her eyes flicked to the scar that was now slashing through Giacobbe's eyebrow, from when he was hit in the head with a mast. "Just be careful."

They both nodded. With sad smiles, they departed, saddling up on horses for their journey. Alessa wasn't certain where they worked—if it was in another city or if it was even in _Roma—_but she always remembered that they would travel by horse, so it had to be a long ride. In the doorway, she watched them leave. They towered above the people walking out in the small square until they disappeared around a corner. She felt terribly sad again—now it was only her, with no one else to understand how she was.

She'd been standing in the doorway for several minutes, aware in the back of her mind that she was supposed to get to work on her chores for the day. She studied the people outside. There were men hauling crates of this or that around, men working in the shops that the square had, men doing this and that. And then there were the women, trailing behind their husbands or buying things for the household. She knew one day she would be exactly like that, if she wasn't already.

Just as she turned to head off to the kitchen, she heard it. Everyone in the square heard it—it was hard to miss.

A woman cried out as she was thrown against the wall, guards surrounding her. Alessa's brows pulled together in confusion.

The guards patrolling the area were usually the same. There was a tall, heavy one; a slim, small one; a tall and muscular one; and then the one that commanded them. Alessa was used to seeing them around, as she was certain everyone else was in the area. The guards didn't usually cause trouble—they'd keep people in line, make sure unregistered merchants didn't set up shop anywhere, and whatever else they were meant to do. But she'd never seen them outwardly be cruel.

And then she was even more surprised. The woman wasn't wearing a dress—she was wearing somewhat ratty clothes. _Men's_ clothes. She had fair, blonde hair and she looked to be young, maybe Alessa's age. But the most surprising thing was that she held a small knife in her hands.

Alessa's heart went off, beating as if she were running for miles straight. What was this woman doing? The guards never tolerated anyone who had weapons—man or woman. Would she get hurt?

"_Cagna,_" a guard spat at the woman, "I don't mind a feisty woman—I actually would prefer that you put up a fight." He gave her a sick smile, implying exactly what his words did.

"You stay away, you _bastardo_!" she yelled back. "I am through being bullied by the Borgia!"

Alessa's eyes widened. Without a second thought, she left the doorway and ran to her room as fast as she could. Sliding on her knees and tearing the bottom of her dress, she reached the trunk at the end of her bed. She threw it open, rifling through things madly until she found Ettrore's childhood clothes. Standing up, she undressed swiftly, and then redressed in the leather pants, the off-white tunic, and the leather boots. But then she stopped, freezing like a statue. What did she have to arm herself with?

A moment later, she had an answer. She hurried to her parent's room. Everything was neat in here—the walls were a deep red, the furniture was a dark wood with decorative gold inlaid in it. It was a beautiful room, simply put. Alessa quickly headed to her mother's bureau, opening it up. When she and her brothers had been just kids, they'd play all sorts of games. One of those had included hide and seek. Alessa had once come into their parent's room, which had been off-limits back then, looking for a place to hide. She never forgot what she found in addition to that: a sword. It'd been in her mother's bureau, tucked far in the back and covered by dresses so that no one would find it.

Now, Alessa reached in, feeling around for the cool steel of the sword. Anxiety hit her when she didn't find anything. What if her mother had moved it? Suddenly her fingers touched metal, and relief filled her chest. She pulled the sword out—and nearly dropped it on the floor. It was a _lot_ heavier than it looked. With two hands she held it up, letting her eyes flick over it for a minute. It wasn't just any steel sword—it had a mist-like coloration to it. The pommel had the letter _M_ engraved in it and the hilt itself was a strong spiral. Then there was the blade. It was wide, but not too wide. The significant thing about it was that the phases of the moon were on it, starting at a full moon at the very bottom near the hilt and ending with a new moon—nothing—at the tip. It was beautiful.

The raised voices of the guards outside broke her out of her reverie like shattering glass. She straightened and headed back downstairs at a surprising speed, considering she really wasn't used to the weight of the sword. It strained her muscles just to hold it—she wasn't sure how well she could fight with it.

Back at the doorway, she slipped out of it and onto the street. People had gathered in small groups, watching the scene in front of them with dismal. The commander now had the woman in a grip, saying nasty things to her. He had a firm grip on the hand that carried the knife, keeping her from striking at him. Alessa approached quietly and quickly, holding the sword up high. She heard gasps of horror and surprise from onlookers when they noticed her, but she paid them no mind. Her eyes locked on the slim and small guard standing just behind their commander, narrowing in determination. She didn't stop to think about what she was doing. She didn't stop to wonder where her parents were. She walked right up behind him, and thrust the sword into his back, impaling him.

Suddenly struck by surprise at herself, she almost dropped the sword. Did she really just _kill_ someone? A _guard_ of the Borgia? But she kept her grip on it at the last moment, which unfortunately plunged the sword deeper into the guard. He had cried out, and now blood gurgled from his mouth and seeped out of his new wound. Alessa felt sick. She yanked the sword back out, and the guard crumpled to the ground. The others, now realizing there was another there, sprang into action. The woman being held by the commander kicked at him, hitting just the right spot so that he released her, and she crouched in a defensive stance, holding her knife out. Alessa copied her stance, intently looking all around. No fear came over her—she knew that she _should_ be scared. She should be terrified! But her hands were steady and her movements were graceful. It was almost like this was something she was meant to do.

"Another _cagna_ wielding a man's weapon, is it?" The commander spat, giving dirty looks to both Alessa and the other woman. "And I see you've killed my comrade. Well, that'll just make what I'll do to the both of you even more enjoyable for _me_!" He lunged out at the other woman just as the bulky guard and the tall and muscular one surrounded Alessa from both sides.

The sword seemed to get even heavier, but she held it up resolutely. Glancing between the two guards, she bit her lip. What was she supposed to do, now? Which one was she supposed to attack first?

She didn't even need to figure that out for herself. The taller, lean guard suddenly lunged at her, sword flying through the air. Alessa turned to him and parried his attack, returning it with one of her own. A sense of pride washed over her when she saw she actually managed to connect her sword with him, doing some damage. He muffled a howl of pain and returned to his defensive stance. In the reflection of her sword, Alessa saw the bulky guard behind her was preparing for an attack. Suddenly frightened—he was wielding an _axe_—she jumped out of the way.

A moment later, something white flashed in front of Alessa's eyes, making her recoil.

Someone else had joined the fight. Ezio moved smoothly, fluidly, as he shoved a sword into the commander's back, yanking it out and splaying blood all over the streets as the commander fell to his knees and then crumpled on the ground. Then Ezio whipped around and slashed the throat of the tall, lean guard, who in turn let out a guttural, throaty cry before the life drained from his eyes and he fell as deadweight next to his commander. Last, he turned to the bulky, heavily armored guard. The guard, sensing the direness of the situation, reached out and grabbed Alessa. He pulled her close to his body, making her outwardly cringe, and held his weapon at her throat.

When Ezio's eyes met Alessa's, he blanched. She couldn't quite read what he was thinking, but she knew it wasn't good.

"Release the woman," Ezio demanded, looking back up at the guard with determination.

The guard shook with deep laughter, making Alessa feel sick once more. The axe he held was sharp and pressing into her throat, slowly cutting into it. It stung horribly, but she made no sound. She noted with some sense of admiration that the fair-haired woman was still standing there, holding a sword she'd retrieved from one of the dead guards.

"You come any closer and the woman dies," the guard said darkly.

Ezio's mouth tightened into a thin line. His eyes flicked to Alessa, and then the guard again.

"You would kill a woman? What kind of man does such a thing?"

The guard laughed again. "Do not try to appeal to any humanity in me. You'll find that there isn't any."

Ezio nodded solemnly. "I suppose you are right. And that is why I will not feel terrible about killing you."

Before Alessa realized what was happening, Ezio raised his arm and a loud _bang_ rang out through the square. She flinched, suppressing a scream as she felt the guard fall to the ground—but as he fell, the axe made contact with Alessa's side, cutting a long lesion into it. She bit her lip hard, tasting blood in her mouth, as she held onto her side gingerly. Her vision faded from black to normal several times. A moment later she realized someone was holding her up, keeping her from falling to the bloody cobblestone ground.

"What _was_ that?" Alessa asked, a little dazed.

Ezio had a hold on her waist, just below where he could see blood slowly spreading on the front of her tunic. He held her close, feeling her limpness.

"Alessa," he said calmly, "How bad is your wound? Is it very deep?"

Alessa shook her head, but then stopped immediately. She found it made her dizzy. "No. It stings, but it isn't so bad. I think I'm just surprised—I have never—I mean I—my _God_," she said finally, sadly, "I _killed_ someone."

Ezio was solemn. He turned to the fair-haired woman. "I would like for you to follow us. We may need back up if we're to be attacked again."

The woman nodded. "Of course—I owe you both my life."

Ezio carefully bent down and picked Alessa up, cradling her in his arms. She was very light, even if she was still clinging to the sword. The fair-haired woman noticed it immediately and took it from Alessa so that it wouldn't burden her.

Ezio began walking in the direction of where he knew to find a doctor in this part of the city. He saw Alessa staring up at him through half-lidded eyes as he did.

"Alessa, what were you doing back there? What could possibly make you want to fight guards?"

Alessa smiled a little, closing her eyes. "I saw that she was in trouble," she said, referring to the blonde woman trailing behind them, "So I wanted to help. I didn't really think about it."

Ezio frowned. "I can see that. Where are your parents?" He ducked into a small thoroughfare.

Alessa shrugged and then winced. Her side stung even more. And to make things worse, she could feel a slight throbbing in her arm, where the stitches were from when she'd gotten hit by the arrow. "I am not certain. Mother went out looking for a new dress after my brothers left. Father should be working."

Ezio nodded. He came out of the end of the thoroughfare in a square lined with shops. There was a doctor with a stand out on the very left. He headed there immediately. The blonde woman had to walk very fast to keep up with his strides.

"Doctor," Ezio said as soon as he was near the stand. He gently rested Alessa on it, turning to the masked doctor. "She has a large cut on the side of her body. What can you do for her?"

There were many slots on the stand holding flasks of liquid, mortar and pestles, and several other things. The doctor went through them immediately, picking up a clear flask and a needle with catgut on it.

Alessa frowned at him. "Not more stitches. I don't like stitches."

Ezio looked down at her, puzzled. "More? When was the last time you had to get stitches?"

Alessa shut her eyes, frowning deeper. "Last week."

Ezio stared at her as the doctor began rolling up the bottom of the tunic, exposing her bare skin. He tried to avert his eyes, but the gash curving from the bottom of her ribcage to near her bellybutton caught his attention. It was bloody, an angry red color that didn't look right on her fair skin at all. He felt queasy for a moment. The doctor saturated it with some of the clear liquid and Alessa flinched, biting her lip.

"Sorry _signorinia_," the doctor said gently, "It'll only hurt for a second."

Alessa nodded as he began stitching her up, her face screwed together in pain. But she made no sound.

Ezio turned away, his face tight. He saw the blonde woman standing patiently beside him, still holding on to Alessa's sword.

"What is your name?"

The woman bowed. "I am Celina Ziggorini."

Ezio nodded. "You are brave, going against the Borgia. The liberation of _Roma_ from their rule is upon us."

She looked up, her brown eyes wide. "You saved my life. It would be a honour to fight alongside you."

"You will be taught many things, then," Ezio said, "Go to Tiber Island. There will be someone there waiting for you."

Celina nodded with excitement. "Of course." She held out the sword to Ezio, as one would hold out an offering. "And her sword. You must want it back."

Ezio took the sword from Celina. "Go now."

Celina nodded and ran off, disappearing into a small thoroughfare at the other end of the street. Ezio examined the sword she'd given him, running a finger along the talented craftsmanship. Where had Alessa found it? He turned to her, now, to see that the doctor had finished the stitches. Alessa was sitting up, her feet dangling off the side of the stand. The doctor was instructing her to be very careful for a day or two so that her skin could begin to heal.

Ezio pulled out some _fiorini_ from his money purse. He handed them to the doctor, who accepted them with a smile and nod.

"Are you okay to walk?" Ezio asked Alessa.

Alessa hopped off the stand, landing on her feet and wincing. But she stood straight. "I am fine."

Ezio sighed. "You should not have done what you did, Alessa."

Alessa scowled at him. "You should not tell me what to do, _stranger. _I don't go around telling people _I_ barely know what they should and shouldn't do."

Ezio raised an eyebrow. "You could have been killed. Or worse."

"I was doing just fine."

"You were caught in between two of them, Alessa. I saw you—but I did not know it was _you._"

Alessa looked at him with disbelief. "Do not think I didn't hear what you said to that Celina. 'The liberation of _Roma_ is upon us.' Why ask for her help, but not mine?"

Ezio looked down. He didn't quite have an answer to this particular question. "I just do not think it's a good idea for you to get mixed up in all of this—"

"All of _what?_" Alessa asked, planting her hands on her hips. It stung, but she made sure he couldn't tell. "What exactly is it that you're doing, Ezio?"

Ezio shook his head. "We should get you home."

Alessa opened her mouth to say something when suddenly she paled. "_Home_? Do you really think I can go _home_ after what I did? My God—I _killed_ someone!" Alessa swayed on her feet at this new realization. Ezio reached out and held onto her arm gently.

"Alessa, you were helping Celina—you were trying to save her. Killing that man helped save her," he said gently. He wasn't certain what to expect, but it wasn't for her wide eyes to look at him with anger.

"Then why won't you let me help save other people? Why won't you tell me what you're doing—who you _are?_"

Ezio stared at her steadily. Alessa finally realized that he didn't have silvery or blue eyes—they were a beautiful golden-brown. A honey color. They must catch the moonlight very well.

"Do you really think," he spoke slowly, "that that is something you'd want to do? To fight? To kill—again?"

Alessa's hands shook at the prospect of shedding more blood. She clenched them into fists. "You said that you do so to bring peace to _Roma_. Why should I be prohibited from doing the same?"

Ezio shook his head, staring off to the side pensively. His lips pulled into a frown, and the slash of his scar was more pronounced. "Alessa, your parents—"

"My parents do not _see_ me, Ezio," she said sadly. "They don't see the things I want. The things I want to_ be_. I ask myself everyday why God made me like this—why he made it so that I think like this. I am not ever going to be what my parents want. I won't ever choose a suitor to be my husband because I do not just want to be some _wife _who he doesn't even love. I want to _do_ things, to help bring peace to our city once more. I want for people to not have to live in fear of the Borgia—I want things that make me so very different from other women, Ezio, and you don't understand how painful that is. To know that I am not right—that I'm a disappointment. But these are the things I want, no matter how I try to convince myself otherwise. Holding that sword—_fighting_ the guards—it all _felt_ right. It felt like… like I was _meant_ to do it. Do you know that feeling, Ezio?"

Ezio was completely silent, staring at her with guarded eyes. Alessa wondered if she made him think she was crazy—she felt a little crazy after ranting on about how wrong she was. But then he nodded, and he seemed to be satisfied about something.

"Alessa, there are many things you must understand if you truly want to do these things," he said steadily.

Alessa nodded. "Then _help_ me understand them."

He stared at her once more, and Alessa felt like he could see right through her. Never before had she felt that someone could do that—could see her so clearly.

"It will take time. There is much you have to know—if you'll even accept it."

Alessa nodded. She had no idea what kind of world she was getting herself into, but it was time that she stopped being so submissive to her parents' wishes, and do what she _needed_ to do. Ettore said to be who she was. She thought that maybe this was who she was—whoever _that_ was.

**Please give me a review! They're all extremely appreciated! I hope you liked this chapter! (-:**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassins Creed.**

* * *

><p><strong>Nine<strong>

Alessa and Ezio waited until nighttime to return to Alessa's family villa. She'd told Ezio how terrible she'd feel if her parents had to _see_ her leave—they'd be so disappointed in her. She'd never forget her father's stricken face when Giacobbe and Ettore left. It kept surfacing in her mind, making her feel terrible for leaving even if her parents didn't have to see her go. They were crouched down outside her window, now, waiting for all the lamps to be doused inside the villa.

Alessa, biting her lip, kept her eyes glued to a clay tile in front of her. She tried hard not to think of anything but what she needed to bring.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ezio asked quietly, breaking into Alessa's thoughts. "You're leaving your home, Alessa. That's not an easy thing to do. Especially since you will be a stranger to the new place you will have to stay at."

Alessa pressed her lips together. "I'm sure about this. It _will_ be tough—but it will be worth it, too."

Ezio frowned. "Your parents—what will _they_ think? They've stayed up this late waiting for you to return. Do you think they'll wait until morning? And then what about tomorrow?"

Alessa looked at Ezio hard. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be. I _know_ these things. I don't need to be reminded of them."

"I think you do need to be reminded of them. I shouldn't let you do this, Alessa. I should just take you to the front door, to your parents."

Alessa shrunk away from Ezio, hurt. Her blue eyes blinked up at him—even crouching down, he was taller than her. His hood was down, and his face was there for anyone to see. Alessa had spent a substantial amount of time staring at him earlier, when he'd pulled it down. "Why would you do such a thing? I told you that this is what I want. Why would you take away the only chance I have at being happy? At being _me?_"

Ezio searched her eyes intently. "_Is_ this what you want? I'm not sure that you really know what you're getting into. Every day, there is death. There is the chance of your own death, too. There is so much blood on my hands, Alessa—I would _drown_ in it, if such a thing were possible. How could you want to feel that way? How could that make you happy?"

Alessa looked away from him. "As you said before, there are the good things, and there are the bad things. I will have to accept the bad."

"Alessa," Ezio said gently, and she turned to look at him again with guarded eyes. "You could die. You could be killed. Death is not a peaceful one, not when you're of our kind. You don't get to just shut your eyes and be done with. I've seen many of my comrades' die. You will, too, if you aren't the one who is killed."

"Ezio _stop_," Alessa hissed. "Stop it! You asked that woman—Celina—for help today. What is it about _me_ that you do not want my help?"

Ezio shook his head, his face tightening. Suddenly, Alessa saw movement in her side vision. She turned back to her window and peered inside. Her bedroom door was open, and through the door she could see her mother and father. Her mother looked to be on the verge of tears, if not already crying, and her father looked terribly worried. Alessa's heart filled with guilt. It was nearly overwhelming—she wanted to go to them, to tell them that she was all right. But she wouldn't let herself. She forced herself to stay where she was, hidden in the shadows. Her parents would be okay; she hoped. She watched grimly as her mother disappeared into her own bedroom and returned with a dark cloak over her shoulders. Her parents went back downstairs.

Ezio sighed quietly beside her. "So it seems they will wait up all night."

Tears stung Alessa's eyes, but she pinched them shut until they went away. "My parents are very strong, Ezio. They will be fine without me."

"Will they?"

Alessa's heart broke at the genuine doubt in his voice. Was he right? Would this be the breaking point for her parents—to have another child leave them without their understanding? But she believed they were strong. And she would come back. The idea of never seeing Ettore or Giacobbe again was one that caused a true pain in her chest. So she would come back—to her parents, to her brothers. She turned to Ezio, straightening her shoulders as she looked him boldly in the eyes.

"Ezio, do you or don't you want to help me? If you truly don't, then say so now. But before you do, remember what I told you earlier. Remember that this is who I am, who I am meant to be," she said as steadily as she could. She waited as he was silent, studying her. She got the strange feeling again—that he could see right through her. It sent an odd shiver down her spine. Not a fearful one, but quite the opposite.

Ezio broke eye contact with her, rubbing at his eyes. He looked out over the tops of houses to the _Castello_ alit with torches. "You really want to do this," he said.

"Yes," Alessa stated, "I do."

He looked back at her, and there was something in his eyes she didn't quite understand. "Do you realize that should anything happen to you, I will feel responsible for it? That will be all the more blood on my hands—that of a young woman."

Alessa frowned. "I only need to learn from you, Ezio. I don't need to burden you by being your responsibility. You said that I can protect myself—I just have to be given the right knowledge. Give that to me, and I will use it well. I won't disappoint you."

Ezio's lips pressed into a tight line. "If this is truly what you want, then fine. We will discuss it further later on. Is it safe to go inside now?"

Alessa nodded, approaching the window. "Yes. If they are downstairs, then we should be safe to be in my room. But we must stay quiet."

Ezio nodded in agreement and followed as she hopped down to the wood floor of her bedroom. It was very dark, but the light of the moon spliced through the open window, casting grey shadows. Alessa knew where everything was at. It was safe for her to use a trunk, as well. Ezio had made sure to have a horse waiting outside.

She bent down on her knees and peered under her bed, pulling out the traveling trunk underneath. Opening it up, her stomach got a nervous feeling. Illiana had given this to her, once, for the day she would marry and leave the house. Alessa was unmarried and preparing to leave the house—but she wasn't truly _prepared_ for it. She'd never lived on her own or with another person she didn't know. The surrounding walls had always been the sanctuary and solace a sheltered life came to know at an early age. Could she learn to be different? To care for herself and look after her own?

"Alessa," Ezio said quietly as he watched her. She stared into the empty trunk, biting her lip as her brows pulled together with worry. When he spoke, she looked up, surprised.

"Yes?"

"You look very doubtful. Are you certain—"

Alessa held up a hand. She straightened out her shoulders and stood. "Yes. For the last time, I'm certain I want to do this. I was just thinking about what I'd need to bring."

Ezio looked unconvinced, but didn't comment. He looked around the room as Alessa packed. The first thing that caught his eye was the amount of bookshelves she had, and how packed they were with books. He knew girls in wealthy families were well-educated—his own sister was, as of a few days ago, now running a business. She had a lot of knowledge, for a woman. But he'd never seen a woman so intent on learning more. As he walked the shelves, he skimmed the titles. There were books of poetry, of medical theories, world theories, and from many topics ranging from the beginnings of Rome, its economic system, the way laws worked, to actual reading books, for entertainment. It was no wonder she was the way she was, with all this information stored away in her head. He'd known the first time he'd looked at her that she was very clever. He just hadn't realized exactly how clever.

"Ezio," Alessa whispered from across the room. He turned towards her, seeing that she was neatly folding things into the trunk. She looked up again when she realized she had his attention and pointed. "The sword. May I have it? It'll fit in here, so it will be one less thing to carry."

Ezio took the gleaming sword out of the loop on his belt and crossed the room to her. Gently he placed it in her hands. Her lean muscles moved slightly when she had a full grip on it. It was heavy, but she was starting to get used to it. She ran a finger over the moons, enchanted by the talented craftsmanship that went into the sword. Where had her mother gotten it? From her father? How else would it make sense that her mother had a sword? Dismissing her constant questions away, she carefully settled the sword into the trunk so that it was in a position it wouldn't move out of.

Suddenly the creaking of the stairs could be heard—someone was ascending them once more. Alessa's eyes went wide as she looked up at Ezio, and without words he could tell she hadn't yet gotten everything. Ezio moved quickly. Quietly, he closed the trunk and slid it back under her bed. Then he took a hold of Alessa's arm and pulled her with him out the window once more. Pressing her up against the stone of the building just a foot away from the window, he put a finger to his mouth. Alessa nodded in silent agreement not to make a sound. Her heart beat rapidly inside her chest, pounding against her ribs. From his close proximity, Alessa could see his pulse was racing, too. She found it odd—Ezio didn't seem afraid of anything at all. She deduced it to being adrenaline. It was the only thing that made sense.

Focusing once more on what was happening, Alessa heard the floorboards cease their creaking, but the footsteps continued. There was a soft weeping sound accompanying it and it was getting closer. Alessa put a hand over her mouth, causing Ezio to look at her intently. Whoever it was, was wandering into Alessa's room. Could it be Illiana or her mother?

Ezio leaned down to catch Alessa's eyes. She finally looked at him. His honey eyes weren't catching the moonlight like they normally did at night—they looked deep and arcane. She couldn't understand what emotion lay within him, what he was trying to get her to understand. Suddenly he pressed closer to her, his body now touching hers. His head was over her shoulder and he could feel his warm breath brush her neck, and both his arms were on the stone of the building, on either side of her. Her eyes widened. The heat of his body even emanated through his heavy robes; it warmed her in the cool night. And then she realized why he'd done this. Whoever was in her room was now at the window, speaking softly.

"Oh, God," someone said in a desperate voice. Alessa recognized it to be her mother. "What have I done? Have I taught my daughter to leave her family, the way I chose to? Have I failed her? My boys—my dear boys have found other interests. But have you made Alessa different—is the blood affecting her more? Is this my punishment, for not believing? Or is she lying dead in some alley—a victim of the night? Will I hear a herald speak of her tomorrow? I don't know what to make of this… I—"Celia choked on tears and her voice was ragged, "I was not strong enough. I pray to you that my daughter is." It was silent for a few moments, but Alessa could still sense her mother by the window. What made her come here? Why did she feel responsible? In front of Alessa, Ezio was staring at her sadly with a hint of something else. Something hidden. "Alessa," Celia whispered suddenly, softly, "Please come home. My dear daughter—please come home."

Tears were streaming down Alessa's face as she listened to her mother leave her room. She didn't dare look at Ezio. She kept her eyes focused on a building over his shoulder—and she could in fact see over his shoulder, to her brief surprise. He moved into her vision. His arms were no longer boxing her in—there was about a foot of space between them now. She still didn't look at him. The wind was slight, drying her tears as she left them there. Wiping them away would be too obvious, she thought. She didn't want to call any more attention to the fact that in most ways, Ezio was right about her parents, and about her not wanting to leave them.

After a few more minutes of silence, she finally looked up to him. He was watching her, as she'd expected. But he didn't look judging. He didn't look as if he felt he'd been right. He looked sad.

"Do not pity me," Alessa said in a cracked voice, breaking the silence.

Ezio shook his head slowly, frowning. "I will not," he said strangely, "if you answer me one question."

Alessa regarded him with a puzzled expression. Another tear fell, and this time she wiped it away briskly. Ezio continued without prompt.

"Why," he started slowly, "Would you give up all of this? You live in a beautiful home. You have a beautiful family. You _have_ family. Your parents have given you so much, and they are not gone, Alessa. They are in there," he nodded at the window, "wishing you were, too. Why not stay?"

Alessa's shoulders fell a little, and her gaze wandered to the river under the _Castello_'s bridge, sparkling in the moonlight. "I used to think love was purpose. Mind you, this was but a few weeks ago. But still, I used to think love was purpose. It definitely _has_ purpose. It has everything I'm looking for—everything I need. But those thoughts were fatuous. I can't create love. I can't pretend it's there—that I'll ever have it. But there is something I can have, and it is a purpose. I'm not just fighting for peace for this reason, Ezio." She looked at him, surprised at how calm she felt. "But I find that it's a passion I have. I want to help people. I want to look at that bridge one day and see people on it—ordinary people. Not cardinals and guards. People. I want families to be liberated from the fear they must live in, once the Borgia recruits them for their work. I want my own family to be liberated from that fear."

Ezio's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "The Borgia—they've done something to your family?"

Alessa nodded sadly. "My father, to be specific. But my father is a good man—he would never willingly help them. They have to have something on him—on our family—that makes him do it. It's the only thing that makes sense."

Ezio's mouth was grim. "And so you want to help remove the Borgia from power, for your family."

"Yes," Alessa sighed, "Yes, I do. This is not only for me, Ezio. Although I do find it enticing to have such a purpose, I am not selfish. I want to fix things for my family. I want them to be as happy as they once were, again."

Ezio nodded. "You are very brave," he said, "And not selfish. To do something like this for your family—that is very far from being selfish."

Alessa stared at him. "Let me finish grabbing just a few more things. Then I'll be ready to leave."

Alessa ducked back inside quietly. Ezio came back in after a few moments. It took only a few more minutes for Alessa to find the rest of the things she wanted and fill them into the trunk. She closed it, clicking the latches shut with a sense of cold finality. Looking around her room, she knew she already had it memorized. She could visit this place in her head whenever she wanted to. But she could never actually come _here_. Not for a while, at least. Then she remembered one last thing.

Springing to her feet, she went to the side of her bed closer to a wall. She bent and picked up Ezio's cape, the fabric comforting and warm in her grasp.

"This," she said as she walked to him, holding the cape up, "I believe belongs to you."

Ezio smiled. "I forgot about that," he said as he took and shook it out, making it full in length again. He regarded Alessa. "You aren't in very thick clothes for the chilliness outside. Are you sure you don't still want to use it?"

Alessa brushed a hand in the air. "I will be fine."

Ezio looked her over, but shrugged when he saw she meant it. He pulled the cape over his head, fastening the strings so that it would stay on, correctly hiding his weapons. That explained why, for the past several days, guards had been more suspicious of him.

"Do you have everything you will need, then?" Ezio asked, looking around her room once more.

"Yes," Alessa said with a small frown, "I have everything."

Ezio regarded her sadly. She looked so young in that moment, almost childlike. He realized it was probably because she had grown up in this room, since she was just a child. Her blue eyes shone bright in the moonlight. A silvery halo shined in her black hair. But her stance was strong. He knew her well enough by now to know that she was, on the inside, very strong. But he was still sad to see that to achieve peace for her family she would have to leave them behind.

Alessa turned to Ezio now, finding his eyes on her own. "What?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Ezio shook his head. "Nothing. I'll carry the trunk down to the horses."

Alessa nodded. "I'll meet you down there." She climbed out the window and hopped down to the short piece of roof that she and Ezio had stood on minutes ago, when he had her pinned to the wall. The thought brought a warm feeling over her—something she didn't quite get. And then her mother's words tried to return to her, so she blocked them out by focusing on what she was doing. Heading to the edge of the villa, Alessa dropped down, gripping the edge. From there, she carefully found her way to the ground.

There were two horses saddled up. A white, noble looking one and a black strong looking one. Their contrasting colors stuck out blatantly. The white horse's short hair gleamed beautifully in the moonlight, catching it and reflecting it in a manner that could only resemble the way a light-metaled sword gleamed in the night light. The black horse's hair looked almost matte, the way a shadow would be. Dark and unnoticed, yet endearing and endless at the same time. The light reached the black horse's eyes, making it look fierce and powerful.

Alessa flinched, tearing her eyes away from the beautiful horses when she saw Ezio. He had moved so silently that she hadn't even heard him land on the ground, with her trunk in his arms. He hefted it onto the black horses back, tying it on to make it immobile. Then he mounted the other horse. Its hooves clacked on the ground, impatiently.

Alessa looked up to Ezio, puzzled. "I suppose I can walk, if we aren't going terribly far," she suggested.

Ezio laughed. "Do you really think I'd make a woman walk, while my own feet do not touch the ground? Here," Ezio held his hand down to her. "I thought it would be a much shorter ride with one horse leading the one carrying your things."

Alessa blinked at his extended hand. She knew her mother was familiar with riding horses—every so often, Celia and Illiana would take them to the market if they had to buy many things at once. But Alessa had never learned.

"I don't know," she said doubtfully, "I can keep up if you go on ahead. I'll take to the roofs." The flash of the guard and the arrow passed through her mind, and instantly she regretted her offer. She wasn't afraid of the guards, but she just wasn't looking forward to another incident like that.

Ezio raised an eyebrow. "Do you not like horses?"

Alessa pressed her mouth into a thin line, looking down. "I'm just not familiar with them."

"I see," Ezio said with a slight chuckle. "I shouldn't have assumed you were. Here," he said again, holding his hand out once more, "All you need to do is hold on. It's easy, once you get used to it."

Alessa sighed softly. She considered making up an excuse, but thought better of it. She put her hand into his, feeling the heat come off him and sink into her skin.

"Now put one foot into here," Ezio toed at the area he meant.

Alessa did as he said. It was awkward to put her leg so high—she was temporarily grateful for her height. She flushed when she realized her grip had tightened on Ezio's hand substantially. A moment later, she cried out in surprise when he pulled her up. Her other leg swung onto the other side easily, and she settled into the saddle behind him. Her heart beat sped up profoundly when she realized just how close they were. Their bodies were closer than they'd been up on the roof—the saddle was shifted so that she was pressing into his back.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ezio said, "I'll teach you how to steer a horse another time."

Alessa swallowed hard. Although he sounded like it wasn't a big deal, she thought it was.

"Put your arms around my waist to hold on," Ezio instructed again, "And you're going to want to, or else you'll fall off."

Alessa slid her arms around him, clasping her hands together at the front of his torso. His body heat continued to warm her—she would have been _too_ warm had she accepted his cape. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing that the other horse was tethered to this one.

"Are you ready, Alessa?"

Alessa turned forward again. With his hood down, her face was near the side of his. "Yes," she said as steadily as she could.

Ezio chuckled again before shucking the reins. Alessa clamped her mouth shut to prevent another cry of surprise from escaping as the horse bucked slightly and pulled forward with a momentum she'd never experienced before. Within a second, they were flying through the streets. The hooves of the two horses clacked on the cobblestone, sending echoes bouncing off of buildings. The world around her was a blur—she didn't know what to focus on. The only thing she was absolutely aware of was the fact that she was pressing more and more into Ezio. Her hands were pressed tightly to his chest out of fear from falling off, and when the horse bounced with its movement, it brought her closer to him even more. Having never ridden a horse before, she wasn't sure if this was proper or not. The ride, which could only have been a half hour or so, seemed stretch on for hours. Finally Ezio slowed the horse to a trot.

Alessa immediately recognized where they were. They were crossing a bridge over the river to Tiber Island. Only a ways down near the bank of the river was the place she'd fallen in years ago. She shuddered at the memory.

"Are you all right?"

Alessa started at his question, her brows pulled together. "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Ezio chuckled, steering the horse around a group of people. "You are still holding onto me rather tight."

Alessa blushed. Her hands were still gripping his waist, and she quickly relaxed them and the rest of her body. Being this close to Ezio made her very tense for reasons elusive to her. Perhaps, she thought, it was just the horse. It was huge and beast-like, and she wasn't very used to riding one.

They trotted a little farther. A large edifice loomed up above them, complete with small towers and tiered, uneven precipice roofs on exterior. It looked absolutely enormous. Ezio trotted the horse close to it, and steered around a corner. They stopped finally, and Alessa's stomach settled back into its normal state, void of the vertigo feeling she'd had moments ago. On their left was marble white stairs leading down to a heavy wooden door.

"Is this… where you live?" Alessa asked nervously.

"For now, I suppose," Ezio said. The black horse carrying Alessa's trunk shifted impatiently behind them, its hooves clacking loudly on the cobblestone. "Now all you have to do to get down is swing your leg over, okay?"

Alessa looked at the ground, biting her lip. She'd never really thought ahead to how to get off the beast. "I'm not sure that will work very well," she said, her voice inflecting doubt.

Ezio turned so that he could see her. "I will hold onto you, just in case. But I promise you will not get hurt. All right?"

Alessa stared at him. His eyes were intent and honey-colored and warm. They were genuine. "Okay," she said slowly. Then she tried to do exactly as he said. She swung her right leg out of the loop for her foot and proceeded to turn her body so that she could drop to the ground. Ezio gripped her arm firmly, so that he could hold her up in case she slipped. Alessa cried out in pain, having forgotten about her stitches. She dropped to the ground and Ezio released his grip on her.

He easily slid off the horse and went to her. She was holding a hand gingerly to her arm, biting her lip with enough force to almost break the skin. There were a few stitches in the fabric of her sleeve where she was holding her hand over.

"Alessa, are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

Alessa stepped away from him, blinking quickly so that her tears would go away. She didn't want _him_ of all people to see her cry. The pain wasn't so bad—it was just the shock. "I'm fine," she said briskly, "You didn't hurt me."

Ezio shook his head, stepping closer. "Let me see your arm."

Alessa breathed in and let her hand fall back to her side, giving the pretense that she really was fine. But really, her arm throbbed where the doctor had stitched it, and her new wound was feeling even worse.

"Look," she spread her arms out, "I am fine. When you said—"

Ezio gave her a stern look. "Alessa, may I please see your arm? You said earlier that the last time you'd had stitches was last week. Why?"

"Why does it matter? Are you just looking for another reason to tell me no?" She asked. She was suddenly very weary. "Ezio, we are already here. Please don't take back your words now."

Ezio sighed. "I'm not taking them back. I would just like to see the wound on your arm, and I would like to know how you got it. If that is okay with you."

Alessa frowned. Ezio was always honest. She hadn't known him for long, but she knew that about him. "Fine," she said without inflection, "You may see it." She extended her arm out.

Ezio gave her a look of appreciation before gently rolling up her sleeve. Where his fingers brushed against her bare skin, she felt odd little jolts of sparks. She stared at him as he was careful to be very gentle. With his hood down and his back facing the moon, his face was lit with a lamp to the right of them. His dark lashes casted darker shadows under his eyes, and the angles to his face were more prominent. His lips were set and determined in a way that made Alessa smile. She'd never met a man before who was so determined to be gentle. Then suddenly, his eyebrows pulled together with concern.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled.

Ezio didn't look up at her. He stared at the thin flaw in her soft skin. It'd been stitched very well—the skin was pulled together tightly, and the beginning of a scar was starting to show. But it looked red and angry, like something that didn't belong on her. He frowned, meeting her eyes finally. "What did this to you?"

Alessa pressed her lips together. "An arrow."

"An _arrow?_" Ezio's eyebrows shot up. "How did an arrow do this to you?"

Ashamed for her poor judgment, Alessa looked away. "A guard shot at me."

Ezio was stunned. "Why would a guard shoot at you? Did you try and help another citizen last week?"

Aware that his hand was still gently holding her arm, Alessa pulled away. She rolled her sleeve back down haphazardly. "No. I was—never mind. It really doesn't matter Ezio."

Ezio leaned down to catch her eyes. "Yes, it does. What were you doing? Where is this guard, now?"

Alessa frowned deeply. Her eyebrows pulled together. "Where is the guard? I—"she stopped. Every time she thought back to what happened, she only remembered being lost in her thoughts. But still, there was something at the very edge of her mind trying to surface. What was it? She shook her head, looking down again. "I do not remember. I just remember that while racing to the Pantheon, I foolishly climbed to the roofs and a guard spotted me. He must have thought me to be a thief, or something." Those words echoed in her head strangely. Had she heard them spoken before? She didn't think so—at least she was _almost_ certain.

Ezio searched her eyes. "Racing?"

Alessa heaved a sigh, her shoulders drooping. The horses both shifted restlessly beside them, waiting to be unsaddled and housed for the night. "I was racing to the Pantheon with my brothers. Whenever they visit, we usually do that. They don't see me the way most people do—they see _me_. They let me wear Ettore's clothes."

Ezio nodded thoughtfully. "But you don't remember what happened to the guard."

"No," Alessa said, "I can't remember anything but the arrow flying at me and coming back to my senses outside of the doctor's home."

"I see," Ezio said vaguely. Then he looked disappointed. "And how does your stomach feel? I probably shouldn't have had you riding a horse after acquiring such a new wound—does it hurt?"

"Not really," Alessa lied. "Should we get the trunk, now? The horses seem restive."

Ezio stared at her a minute. "Yes, we should. I think I am late for a meeting, anyway." Ezio turned to the black horse and began untying the tethers that from the trunk.

"Meeting? What do you have to meet for?"

Ezio shrugged and pulled the trunk down, resting it on the cobblestone. "I will get you settled first, and then I will find out."

Alessa pouted. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

Ezio led the horses over to the small stable across from the hideout. He walked back to her, a rueful look on his face. "You've had a long day, Alessa. You need rest—your _wound_ needs rest. I will tell you more tomorrow."

Alessa sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"And I'm surprised and pleased you aren't putting up a fight," Ezio said with a smile. He gestured for her to walk down to the heavy wooden door as he picked up her trunk. "I think you will like your room. If you don't, there are plenty to choose from. I've been given this space for quite a while."

"Why did you need it?" Alessa asked as he opened the door for her. There were more marble white steps leading down, inside. She walked down with him behind her, and then stopped, surprised.

It was a grand room—a little run down, but grand nonetheless. There were red and yellow banners hanging from the ceiling with a symbol on it. It looked familiar somehow, and yet she knew she'd never seen it before. There were bookshelves placed about sporadically, and she could see into a room holding artwork. It seemed that there were several other rooms stemming off of this main one. Suddenly, her heart beat quickened when she realized that there were other people in the room. There was a woman set up in an armchair. She had red hair, a beautiful face, and a slim yet curved figure. A man wearing burgundy pants and a dark blue hoodless cowl stood perfectly straight in the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. As Alessa's eyes met his, she found him studying her scrupulously. Her face reddened. There was a large bellied man in mint green dress, a shining sword at his side. He gave off a strong, fierce vibe. A hooded, mysterious man stood with his arms crossed. His eyes were hidden under the burgundy hood, making Alessa anxious. Then there was a small, dark haired girl that resembled Ezio very much. She looked kind, almost happy to see Ezio right now. And then there were two boys, clad in black—Alessa realized, with a jolt in her heart, that they were _Giacobbe and Ettore_.

Her mouth dropped and she paled completely. She turned to Ezio, trying to form words, but found that she was void of any. She looked back at her brothers, who had removed their hoods. They mimicked her expression almost exactly.

"Well," Ezio said, "It seems I truly am late. I had to take care of some—"he stopped, looking at Alessa, "Things."

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><p><strong>Give me your opinion with a review! (-: <strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed.**

**A/N: My dearest apologies for the horrifically great amount of time it took to return to this story! The reviews I've received have been especially helpful, though!**

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><p><strong>Ten<strong>

There was a silence in the room as the siblings stared at each other. The others in the room observed curiously.

"My _God_," Alessa said finally, finding her voice, "What are you two _doing_ here?"

Ettore straightened first, collecting himself. "What are _you_ doing here? Alessa—is that _blood_ on your shirt?" Ettore walked briskly over to Alessa, followed by a still-stunned Giacobbe, and he took her by the hands. "Dear sister, what has happened to you?"

Alessa looked down at her tunic. "It is old blood, from earlier today. I was in a fight—Ettore you should have seen it!" she said excitedly, suddenly forgetful of their company. "There was a woman, Celina, and—"

"A _fight_?" Ettore was incredulous. "Alessa—what do you mean you were in a fight? Ezio?" Ettore turned to Ezio, completely confounded. "What the hell is going on?"

Ezio sighed. He set Alessa's trunk down on the floor and straightened, preparing to explain, but then Ettore burst out again upon watching him.

"And is that your _trunk?_ What the _hell_ is going on, Alessa? I demand an answer."

Ezio held out a quelling hand. "This is not your sister's fault," he said calmly. "It is mine. You are angry, Ettore, but you do not know all that has happened—"

"No," Ettore said through clenched teeth, advancing on Ezio. "Apparently I don't. Why don't you tell me, Ezio? Are you fraternizing with my sister? _Sleeping_ with her? Is _that_ what this is about?"

"Ettore!" Alessa exclaimed, appalled. She knew by the heat in her cheeks that she was blushing. Putting herself between the two men as a barrier, she realized that they were still taller than her, staring each other down. "How could you say such a thing? Where are your manners? This is not the brother I know."

Ettore met her eyes, his own ablaze with fire. "And this is not the sister I know. Tell me, how is it you know _him_?"

Alessa's eyebrows pulled together. "He saved my life, Ettore. That is how I know him. How do _you?_"

Ettore shook his head, turning away with a scowl. He put his face in his hands and breathed, trying to reclaim his equanimity.

Giacobbe, back to his senses, eyed Alessa's trunk. "Are you staying here, sister?"

Ettore turned on him, his rage once more uncoiled by his brother's tactlessness. He pointed a finger at Alessa. "She will not! I will not allow it! Giacobbe, how do you not see what has happened?"

Giacobbe rolled his eyes. "I am not certain that anyone has seen what has happened, since you will not allow them to speak. Really, Ettore, I thought you were more patient."

Ettore's nostrils flared. Alessa was stunned—she had never seen him so angry before. His breathing was shallow but began to slow back to normal. It seemed that Giacobbe had a calming effect on most everyone.

"Fine," Ettore said, looking at the ground. "Then speak. I will not interrupt."

Alessa looked to Ezio. He sighed so faintly, she barely heard it. His eyes scanned the occupants of the room. "This is Alessa," he said, "Alessa _Cappello_."

Niccolo , who had already assumed as much, was still surprised. "The woman Cappello, other than Celia. Very interesting." He rested a hand under his chin, his eyes never leaving Alessa's. It unnerved her to no end.

Ezio introduced Niccolo Machiavelli, La Volpe, Bartolomeo, Caterina Sforza, and Claudia to Alessa. Ettore was still brooding off to the side, at times making crude comments to Giacobbe who simply shrugged them off. Giacobbe seemed at peace with everything. Alessa's heart was still beating hard against her ribs, making the wound on her stomach throb like it had its own heartbeat, though one imbued with pain.

At the last of the introductions, Ettore waved an impatient hand in the air. "Now that you are finished, I would like to know how my sister managed to get blood on her tunic. And I'd like to know this from you, Ezio."

"Ettore," Niccolo said quietly. "Though I understand your position in the Brotherhood, I would advise you not to speak out of manner."

Ettore rounded on Niccolo, but maintained his retrieved composure. "If it were your little sister, pray tell, what would _you_ do?"

Niccolo merely nodded, appeased.

"He has every right to question this," Ezio confirmed. "As you already know, I went out to recruit more citizens today. Your sister found Celina before I did. You should know that she was brave. Had it not been for her, I fear I would have been too late for Celina."

Ettore's gaze was intense. "And the blood?"

Ezio frowned, looking at Alessa. In his mind's eyes, he could still see the brute of a guard holding her, threatening to spill her blood. It was a memory that made him cringe. "A guard had grabbed her, thinking to use her as leverage for his escape. I shot him and his weapon gouged her as he fell. It is my fault."

"It is not," Alessa said with strong conviction. "You saved my life."

Ettore flipped from angry to concern, like tossing a _fiorini_. He went to Alessa again. "Let me see your wound. Did you go to a doctor?"

Alessa nodded. "Ezio took me. But you do not need to see, Ettore. It is fine."

"No," Ettore said firmly. "I want to see how deep it is."

Alessa sighed, frowning. She lifted her shirt a little, exposing the wound. It curved from the bottom of her ribs to her bellybutton, looking red and angry on her soft, creamy skin. "See? It is fine." She let the shirt fall back into place.

Ettore shook his head in consternation, putting a hand to his forehead. "First the arrow, and now this happens. I swear, Alessa, I have failed you as your brother."

"Ettore," Alessa touched his arm. "You have not. You know this is my fault—both times. So do not go blaming yourself."

"Yeah," Giacobbe spoke up flippantly. "I mean, there has to be someone else in the family who lacks common sense. It would not be very fair if it were only me."

Alessa and Ettore shot him dirty looks as Bartolomeo bellowed with laughter. Giacobbe fell silent, but smirked nonetheless.

"Why bring her here of all places, then?" Ettore turned to Ezio.

Alessa answered. "I asked him to. I cannot be what Mother and Father want of me, Ettore. You know this. You told me to find who I want to be, and be that. So I have chosen."

Ettore was grim, his mouth pulled into a tight line and his eyes sad. "You do not even know what you have chosen, Alessa. You have not a clue. If you did, you never would have come here."

Alessa crossed her arms. "Then why are you two here? What about your apprenticeship working with boats, hmm? Was all that a lie?"

The question hung in the air for several minutes; the silence heavy and abundant, thickening the air until Alessa found it hard to breathe. She knew all the strangers in the room were staring at them. At the time, she didn't care. She only stared at Ettore, her eyes begging for an answer. Would her own brothers really have lied to her for so long?

"This _is_ our apprenticeship," Ettore gritted finally. "It is our duty to contribute our skills. But that duty is _ours_, not yours."

"The same blood runs through our veins!" she refuted angrily. "You cannot deny that, brother. Besides, you were the one that told me to find who I am! What is so bad, if this is it?"

Ettore scowled. "Because you do not know what _this_ is!"

"Are you referring to the death, brother? The bloodshed? Because I _do_ know. More than you realize. And it has not scared me off. I am no child, Ettore. Please stop treating me like one."

Ettore fell silent, taken aback by the bitterness in her tone. He blinked at Alessa, then ran a hand through his black hair, shaking his head. The disappointment in his eyes made her heart sink.

"I think," Ezio spoke up cautiously, "that perhaps you three should continue this elsewhere, in your own privacy."

Ettore's mouth was a hard, white line. "Yes. But tonight, we must speak strategy. We should… allow Alessa to use a room for the night."

Alessa couldn't suppress her grin. "Thank you, Ettore. Thank you."

"I only said for the night," Ettore warned crudely. "Do not think I support you staying here for longer."

After a short dispute over where exactly Alessa would stay, Ezio lifted her trunk once more and led her down a corridor lined with torches of flickering fire. He was silent, causing a strange nervous stir in her stomach. Was he angry with her for causing such a commotion?

He stopped at a door, but before he could reach to open it, she spoke quietly.

"When you first met me, did you know who I was?"

Ezio seemed frozen, his hand outstretched for the handle. He drew it back and looked at her. With his hood down, it was easy to get lost in his face, the striking honey color of his eyes against the dark brown of his hair.

"No," he said after a long pause. "I did not know who you were. I knew you were familiar, but it was only after that I found out. You and your brothers share similar qualities."

Her curiosity only grew. "So when you saved me that night, when that man almost killed me, did you know then?"

Ezio was reluctant. "Perhaps we should speak about this tomorrow, Alessa."

Alessa frowned. "Then answer one thing for me. Why are you doing this?"

The only sound was the crackling of fire from their torches as she stared at him. She had never so openly stared at a man before—it wasn't proper for a woman to do. But she had also never stayed in Ettore's clothes for longer than several hours, at most, nor did she ever fight a guard before. All of this was new, creating anxious butterflies in her stomach. How could she have been so lucky, so be given such a chance when she was merely seen as a woman?

Ezio had opened her door without an answer. After grabbing a torch, he led her inside and set her trunk down at the end of a large bed. He lit the other torches in the room, as well as a candle at the bedside. His usual smooth step faltered in the slightest on his way past her.

"As I said," he said, gripping the handle of the door as he stood halfway out. "We should talk about this tomorrow. Tonight, you should rest."

Alessa was disappointed to see him leave her. With the door shut, she felt all too alone. It didn't take long to strip off Ettore's clothes and pull a nightgown over her head, but she didn't feel all too prepared to sleep. If anything, sleep would evade her for the night. Her mind was too consumed with its thoughts to allow her rest.

On her way to this room, she had spotted a library of sorts. Figuring a bit of reading would aid her muddled head, Alessa quietly opened the door and snuck down the corridor. When she heard deep voices coming from a small room with a desk and a lit fireplace, she paused and ducked into the shadows, concealing herself.

"I am not saying that it is just," she heard Ezio say. "But I do think you should give her a fair chance. The same blood runs through your veins, and if she is half as promising as the two of you, then she is already better than any Assassin we could train. From what I saw today, she could even emulate you. But only if you give her the chance."

Alessa's eyes widened. Assassin? The word slowly set into her mind like a feather settling into her mother's garden. They were Assassins. It only made sense, didn't it? For them to hold the power to help Roma?

"I will not even consider it," Ettore said gruffly, almost petulantly. Peeking inside the room, Alessa spotted Ezio sitting in a chair beside the desk as Ettore paced the room and Giacobbe stood calmly before the fire, warming his hands. Ettore's face looked ashen in the firelight. "Especially not now, when Roma will soon be a war within itself. The danger is too great."

"It is a danger we have accepted," Giacobbe spoke pensively from his place. "Does that not make us hypocrites, brother?"

"It makes us men," Ettore refuted. "She should not have to face these things. She should be able to find another calling, go to a place where she is happy and loved and safe. Not where death awaits her with each coming day. I will not have it."

"I understand your reluctance," Ezio said, his fingers skimming over a book on the desk. There was a map of Europe set before him, marked in different colors. "I have a young sister myself. But she is here now, too, and she understands the risk she is taking even by running a brothel. It is linked with the Assassins. I have allowed her to make her own choice."

"That is _your_ sister," Ettore said. "Not mine. You have seen her with your own eyes, Ezio. She is a delicate creature. Princes would take her hand."

"And yet it seems she wouldn't take theirs," Ezio murmured almost to himself. "Delicate things often become the wisest, the strongest. You should not underestimate her."

Giacobbe didn't turn around, but his shoulders set in a way that was unusual for him. "I find you to be quite unfair in this moment, Ettore, considering you have never voiced such an opinion of her before. _Delicate?_ Since when is Alessa _delicate?_ Since childhood, we have been alongside her as she does what we have done. She is faster and stronger than the other girls—hell, even some boys. You know this. Why are you saying otherwise now?"

Ettore ran a hand through his hair. "Because I do not want to see our sister get hurt any more than she already has. You should feel the same, if you truly care for her Giacobbe. We are Assassins. Could she possibly come to terms with that?"

"Yes," Giacobbe answered simply. "I believe she could. She's smarter than I, I will admit. I believe she'll understand the Creed even better than I could. She would understand why this is all so important."

Ettore grew angry and his voice rose. "And what? You think that she could understand the death, better then, too? The way it feels to have a man's pulse cease at your fingertips? The fact that, with every assignment we have, with every step we take, we are more likely to die each time? How could you allow such a thing _near_ her, brother?"

Giacobbe was still very calm, yet tense. "Earlier this evening, we spoke of strategy about the Borgia towers, did we not? We must rid Roma of the Borgia's influence slowly, and we must execute any Templar agents we come across. This will take time, Ettore. Not only that, but it will take great skill. Ezio cannot do it by himself. We must act as one in order to achieve our goals. With no offense to you, Ezio, the citizens we are recruiting will not learn fast enough to keep up. But Alessa has natural talent. She is swift. Let her aid us, Ettore, and we can win these battles."

"Winning battles does not win the war," Ettore said, as if this alone was another great argument to make.

"No, but I thought if we started off in small measures, you would see her potential. Ezio sees it because he allows himself to. Will you?"

Ettore did not answer and instead stared at the fire intensely, as if he could pull the fire out into the room just by doing so. Giacobbe sighed heavily.

Ezio sat up straighter. "If you choose to allow her to be trained, then I believe you should speak to her about the Brotherhood yourselves. Family should pass it on to family." The reminiscent look in his eyes made Alessa sad. It was obvious to her that this was a sour subject for him. "You should decide on something soon. She has your fire, Ettore, when it comes to all things she does not yet understand."

Giacobbe looked between Ettore and Ezio. Neither of the men chose to regard another, but instead kept their eyes busy elsewhere. Giacobbe's eyes landed back on Ezio, the somberness gone. There was a familiar glint of dark amusement in his eyes.

"Ezio," he said. "If I may ask…"

"Yes?"

"Are you sleeping with our sister?"

Alessa clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. Could Giacobbe have been born more manner-less? Ezio looked a mixture between taken by surprise, doubtful, and stunningly embarrassed. Ettore turned on his heel to stare the older Assassin down.

"If you are, Ezio, so help me God, I'll—"

Giacobbe laughed as he threw his brother sly grin. "Finally, he speaks again." Then he walked past him, patting him roughly on the shoulder. "Brother, you should not worry so much. Alessa can sleep with whomever she likes. After all, she is an Assassin now. And a woman, if you hadn't noticed."

Ettore's mouth fell open as he watched his brother leave the room. Then, as if hit by the words, he rocked forward after him. "_Giacobbe—_"

The sentence fell silent on Alessa's ears as she spun around. Quick to scurry back down the hallway and return to her room, Alessa shut the door as silently as possible behind her. She leaned against it, feeling oddly out of breath.

She understood what she was to be, now. An Assassin. That wasn't what bothered her and truly made her night sleepless.

Ezio had known she was there the entire time by the way he had looked at her before she'd turn to leave. Her heart beat strangely in her chest.

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><p><strong>What are your thoughts on where this is going? Review! (-:<strong>


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